The Most Difficult Decision
by Veela-Valoom
Summary: Sometimes everything you believe matters isn't quite as important as you originally thought. Is there life outside of Quidditch? Can Oliver roller skate? Will the past forever haunt... Oliver Wood-OC. All written but not all beta-ed.
1. The Big City

Authors Note: I'm still learning the ropes around Although I've been reading for awhile, submitting sometimes proves difficult because I'm blonde. Disclaimer: I don't own Quidditch, Muggles, Oliver Wood etc etc etc....I own Izzy Bella and most of the rest belonds to the ever brilliant and wonderful JK. Rowlings (Jake for short)  
  
Chapter 1 The Big City

The mammoth buildings made Oliver Wood feel minuscule. Quidditch, magic, and fame seemed so little next to the perpendicular and monstrous buildings Muggle science had built. _So this is New York_ he thought to himself, looking around. The buildings seemed to touch the clouds, and unlike most wizarding villages they were metallic and square. They just went straight up, un-adorned architecture that dwarfed anything he had ever seen. Trailing behind his teammates, he looked around in awe. In his world, Muggles were often considered simplistic, but there was nothing simplistic about the city that surrounded him. Oliver Wood was a young man, a famous Quidditch player already, but he hadn't seen a substantial amount of the world. Henric, Scotland, his hometown, was far separated from the life he was living.

Oliver at 19 was a grateful man, or more actuarially a boy, for everything life had blessed him with. Upon graduating Hogwart's he had joined Puddlemere United Reserve team and within a couple of months he had replaced their ailing keeper. Oliver remembered the whirlwind that had allowed him to live this marvelous life. Richie Mindick was the keeper for Puddlemere, a professional Quidditch team. The aged keeper, though talented, was slowing down. Oliver, however, had been improving, and was the best keeper in the reserve league. One day the owner, Brenten Doyle, had arrived unannounced to a practice. Pulling Oliver aside, he told him, "You're the Puddlemere keeper. Practice is tomorrow. Be there or get fired." In all his dreams of being a professional Quidditch player he never expected his big break to occur like that. Brenten Doyle was a very cold man, so Oliver didn't know why he had expected anything different. Brenten was an older man, with dark stormy violet eyes and a bitter tone to every word. Whenever Oliver was alone with him for too long he couldn't help but feel cold, almost tragic. The man had a sense of both tragedy and evil written all over him. One thing Oliver would never do is look into the stormy eyes. He had made the mistake once, and the hatred and bitterness he had seen had left him apprehensive. He didn't want to be on Mr. Doyle's bad side. Even more than not wanting to be on his bad side though, Oliver didn't want to be inside his mind.

Drifting in his thought's Oliver ran straight into Rance Wilcome, his teams beater and resident comedian. "Whoa there Oliver. For someone so graceful in air, you really are clumsy."

"Sorry, wasn't paying attention," Oliver said apologetically to 27 year old man. To the rest of the team, Oliver was merely a boy-- a talented boy, but still a child. The closest one to him in age was 25. Oliver perused his surroundings, wondering why the team had stopped here. They were standing at a magazine stand ran by two blonde women. Then it hit Oliver they weren't Muggle women; they were witches.

"Oh is this Oliver," tittered an over done blonde witch. "You have to be the cutest Quidditch player ever." Oliver noticed the sour looks of all the men standing around him. The witch was at least 26, probably a bit older, but Oliver was un-intentionally stealing all the attention from his older teammates.

"Thanks," Oliver said blushing. He didn't like the attention; he didn't like the fame. He loved the game, just as he always had. For years Quidditch had been his life.

"Too bad he's merely a child," interjected Rance. Oliver grinned. Leave it to Rance to solve the problem.

Farren Tetec stepped in the conversation, "I think I'm about the right age miss." Farren turned on the charisma, "I didn't catch your name.."

"Julie," she quickly said. She was the younger of the two blonde women, but still much too old for Oliver. He didn't see what was so attractive about the women anyways. They were your average witches, fans of Quidditch, fans of blue-blooded names, just a little ditzier than most witches Oliver associated with. He couldn't help but remember that one of the smartest witches he had known had Muggle parents. As he stood there watching his teammates flirt he wished that there had been girls on their Quidditch team like there had been back at Hogwarts. After Hogwart's Oliver had been in for a reality check. At Hogwart's-well at least in Gryffindor- everyone was on an equal level. Once Oliver had graduated he realized the differences between the more modernized and fair Hogwarts and the "real world". Now Oliver knew why Dumbledore was such an important man. He saw how things should be, and ran his school as his own ideal world. It sure didn't prepare Oliver for the real world, but he guessed it gave him a basis to know the real world was wrong.

The witches at the magazine stand chattered on and on with the rest of the Quidditch team. The women's high incessant giggles and flirting annoyed Oliver. Quidditch wasn't about attention or girls. Desperate for a distraction Oliver picked up a sport's magazine, "Can I read this?"

"Sure sweetie," the witch giggled. "He's so cute." Oliver heard her say as he walked to a bench to sit down and read. All of the Muggle sports were very un- familiar to Oliver. Football? Soccer? Rugby? He didn't know which to read about. Quidditch was the only sport he had ever known. He wondered why wizards had one sport if Muggles had so many. Oliver tried to concentrate on his reading rather than the potent high-pitched giggles of the ditzy witches. _No wonder they work at a Muggle magazine stand,_ Oliver thought to himself.

When Oliver finally looked up he noticed that no one was around. Not Rance, not Farren, not the ditzy witches, no one. "Bloody hell," he muttered under his breath. They had left him in the middle of New York City.


	2. Bitter Girls Are Hot

Authors note: Forgot to feel in the bloody blanks first time I uploaded this. Looks at hair Yep definetly a blonde.... Oh and Chocolate Bar is just a random place I selected from a NYC travel guide...I like chocoloate and couldn't think of anything else so it got selected. If anyone has a better idea be sure to tell me.  
  
Disclaimer time: Yo, I do not own...that which is not mine....It's Jake's all the time. Okay that's just me being silly. Anything belonging to the Harry Potter realm belongs to the magnificent JK Rowling. Izzy Bella however is mine.

Chapter Two: Bitter girls are hot

Standing up and looking around, Oliver realized he didn't know where he was. _At least I know the language, _he thought to himself. The whole city seemed to be going somewhere, and here Oliver stood in the middle, not knowing where to go. He looked at the crazy beeping metal cars and decided that no; he did not want to cross the street. He knew the name of the place he was suppose to be going, but he didn't know how to get there. The other guys had been to New York before and had mentioned something called a subway that was an underground train. Praying that someone knew where was Oliver decided that he would have to ask someone.

The first New Yorker he had stopped had not been a pleasant experience. "Where is The Chocolate Bar ? Oliver asked politely.

"I don't know and I don't particularly care. Get out of my face," said the first woman, had quickly brushed him off. The subsequent asking for directions had the same results; "go aways" rude comments, evil glares, and the occasional cussing out.

"Bloody hell! I'm never going to find my way out of this city alive," Oliver muttered as he continued to walk. One woman-- one he didn't even speak to-- was particularly rude, she just said, "Get out of my way," with a few other vulgar words added in. Trying to quickly back away from the rude women Oliver bumped into someone else. He turned with dread on his face to see a young blonde woman with piercings.

"I'm so sorry," Oliver said apologetically, almost pathetically. "It was an accident."

The girl at first glared at him, then said, "You better watch where you walk in this city."

"I'm trying to," he said, still sounding very apologetic, "I'm just lost."

"Ok...say what?" the blonde girl asked quickly.

"I'm lost," Oliver said, "I'm from Scotland. I was here with team and they ran off and left me."

"Did a man just admit he was lost?" the girl asked a little more pleasantly.

"Yes," Oliver gave a slight grin, "I'm bloody lost badly."

The girl rolled her eyes but she couldn't help noticing that the young man had a sincerity that shone through the pitifulness. "Do you know where your friends were going?"

"We were suppose to be heading back to The Chocolate Bar but I think they were going to get some food first."

"Just what I was about to do before you ran me over."

"I'm sorry," Oliver said meekly.

"I heard you the first time. First thing you have to learn about New York that is being polite doesn't always help."

"Oh...um...I would say I'm sorry again, but I don't think you would like that. Can you help me?" Oliver laughed a little. The girl was standoffish but still eased his worry nonetheless. At least he had found someone who would speak to him.

"Yeah after I eat. Starvation isn't my thing," she started to walk into the restaurant.

"What am I suppose to do till then?"

"You have money, don't you?" Oliver nodded meekly. "Then come on. The restaurant's open to everyone." He followed her and they were seated at a table for two.

"I'm Oliver Wood, by the way."

"My name's Izzy," said the girl. When they sat down to eat, Oliver took a good look at the girl for the first time. He was amazed by what he saw. His first reaction to her had been fear because of her piercings and attitude, but now he caught on to her softer features. She had a lovely face, framed by short, almost white, blonde hair with fire red streaks. She had the most pleasant and lovely violet eyes he had ever seen, perfectly outlined with dark eyeliner, even though Oliver could tell she didn't need it. Her eyebrow and her (labret) chin were pierced but somehow it worked for her.

"No last name?" Oliver asked.

"None that I want," said Izzy insinuating that there was something wrong with her last name. "If you want you can call me Izzy Bella," she said sarcastically.

"Isabella!" Oliver laughed. "I like it."

"Good, you better if you want my help."

Oliver laughed. The girl, though bitter, was amusing. Oliver assumed she didn't think too highly of him, but he didn't mind as long as she helped him. He couldn't stand the thought of remaining lost in the world's largest city.

"Believe me, I want it more than you know," Oliver added seriously. Izzy couldn't help but struggle not to smile at the boy's feeble attempts at humour. Yes, he was a boy, and even though he was the same age as herself Izzy couldn't think of him as an adult. She didn't want to like anything about the boy, but his innocence was endearing. He spoke freely and honestly, and she never once caught him looking down at her low cut shirt. In Izzy's world, low cut shirts weren't for attracting men; they were for testing them. So far this stranger was passing the test. Still, Izzy couldn't deny she was drawn to the boy. Ever since he had apologized so freely and admitted he was lost, she had been drawn to him. Everything about him seemed endearing, from his damned naiveté, to his puppy dog brown eyes, to his sexy accent. None of them fit together. Sexy, naive and puppy are not three words that are easily strung together.

Oliver continued to talk, "See I'm a...Qu... rugby player. First trip to New York; first trip to the States actually. Never imagined them to be like this. You see, I'm from a small town and well...this is not a small town. I can't imagine living in a place like this."

"You get use to it," Izzy said honestly, then scolded herself for it. "It's a place like any other, and I'm tired of the idiotic tourists who don't seem to comprehend that."

"I'm sor.....nevermind," Oliver laughed. The entire meal he talked to the beautiful New Yorker and he could tell she was gradually easing into talking to him. When she had met him she had been rude, but gradually she was becoming a little more comfortable and a little less defensive. Oliver was enjoying it, Izzy on the other hand, wasn't. She was enjoying his company, but couldn't stand the "niceness" she was exuding. She wasn't a bad person, but she wasn't a "nice gal" like she was acting.

"God Oliver quit being so easy to get along with," she said crossly with a laugh, "You and your accent and eyes, you're messing up my New York attitude."

"Can't help who I am, Miss. Must be a Scottish thing," he smiled.

"Well that's one less place I want to visit," Izzy said rudely. Still, she couldn't help but be a little disappointed when the check came and dinner was over. She didn't let Oliver know that, "Thank goodness I can finally get rid you!" she said as the check arrived but inside she had to admit she'd enjoyed the company and the conversation. She even hadn't minded having to help Oliver with the money because he was use to "ummm....pounds," as he put it.

As the walked through the streets Oliver was still amazed by all the sites. Izzy rolled her eyes. He was so easily distracted that it was annoying. Against her own will she grabbed his hand to lead him through the city. It was warm in her hand. One part of Izzy hated it; she hated being vulnerable. At the same time, however, if it were anyone's hand she was forced to hold on to might as well be him. _Damn it_, she thought, _He's making me go soft._ To the hard edge Isabella, the gentle Oliver seemed like a child. Maybe that was just perspective, though, because to Oliver Izzy seemed stuck as an angry teenager.

The Chocolate Bar was just a block away and Izzy was fighting her desire to take the long route. She could spend hours getting to this one places, when in actuality it only took five minutes. As always, she hid her emotions behind annoyance and anger. "Damn this traffic," she muttered as they crossed a busy street. _Damn this feeling_, she said to herself. _I never feel anything; I never want to feel anything, dammit!_ Suddenly she stopped. "Ok, I hate to say this, but here's my number if you are actually a decent guy and not some scam artist, call me. Otherwise The Chocolate Bar is just around the corner and I hope you burn in hell," she glared at him.

Oliver stifled a small laugh. "Well, I am a decent guy, and I'll call you when I get home. As for hell, you don't really want me to go there do you?"

"Do I have to be honest?" She rolled her eyes, "No, you're a decent guy and if you call me I'll stop cursing you to hell, but if you don't I can't think of a better place for you."

"Don't worry Izzy Bella, I'll call as soon as I can. Thanks for getting me here in one piece. I wouldn't have survived this city without you," Oliver kissed her hand, "Farewell for now."

Izzy would never admit it, but her heart fluttered and skipped a beat when Oliver kissed her hand. She watched as he waved to his teammates across the street and crossed to join them.

_Damn him,_ she thought turning away,_ He's too damn perfect_

As Oliver left with his team he glanced back at the aggressive, angry, and beautiful girl he had just met. _Strange,_ he thought. _She sure is a strange one._ Strange as she might be, he couldn't help smiling to himself. He secretly admitted to himself how much he had liked her.

"How'd you get here, Oliver?" Rance asked, "We didn't realize we'd lost you till it was too late."

"Were you with that woman?" Farren asked, wide eyed.

Oliver rolled his eyes, "She helped me navigate this city." The wheels of Farren's mind were turning. Of course, he was thinking something completely inappropriate. "It wasn't a big thing Farren."

"Sure sure," the Muggle-born wizard laughed, "Did you get her number?" Immediately Oliver cheeks turned bright red. It was a reaction only an inexperienced boy such as Oliver would have and it immediately answered his question. "You did! Aw, our little Oliver is growing up." All his teammates joined in the good-natured teasing.

"You're becoming a man," Rance wiped away a fake tear, "I never thought I'd see the day." Then he added in a serious tone, "Really, I never thought I'd see the day, Mr. Innocent." Mr. Innocent was a new name for Oliver. Even though he wasn't experienced he never considered himself innocent, only focused. He wasn't sheltered. He'd never dated merely because he'd never wanted to. Quidditch had always, and would always be the focus of his life.

"It's just a number! It doesn't mean..." Oliver fumbled over his words. It wasn't just a number and it _did_ mean something. Everyone else just continued laughing as Oliver turned a violent shade of red.

"Come on guys, give the kid a break," Rance brought the teasing to an end. Even if he always was the comedian, he was also always a friend to Oliver. Even with the age difference he respected Oliver and knew when to stop.

As the team walked away Oliver hung behind the rest. Rance fell back from the crowd to join him. "You alright kid?" he asked.

"Yeah, thanks," he gave Rance a slight smile.

"Just answer me one thing kid. Do you like her?" Rance gave a big toothy grin and a gentle nudge with his elbow in the ribs

"Yeah, actually I do." Oliver couldn't help grinning, "Actually I think I do a lot." Rance just nodded and the two caught up with the group. Finally Oliver felt like he was connecting with at least one member of the team. He'd have to thank Izzy for that later. As for now, it was a guy's night out.  
  
Authors Note: Okay I'm a ditz. I just got that the restruant/bars name was really witty laughs


	3. The Perfect Guy

Attn: Disclaimer...a lot belongs to JK Rowlings. Izzy Bella belongs to me. These are the only three chapters I'm posting for now. I'm goign to edit more of the story tomorrow and then probably post some then. I hope people actually read and enjoy this.  
  
Chapter 3 The perfect guy

_Knock Knock_, Oliver's knocking echoed throughout the Weasley house. As soon as he had arrived home, he had flown straight to the Burrow. Sure, he could've used Floo Powder and been there in a matter of seconds, but he needed some time to think about what to say to Izzy if Mr. Weasley could teach him to use a phone.

"Oliver?" the twins were puzzled to see their old friend standing at the door. Suddenly they flung themselves at him in a huge hug. "Hey guys, our favorite Quidditch player is here!" In a rush of red hair and freckles Oliver was surrounded by the Weasley family inquiring about his health, his life, and Quidditch in general. Oliver felt more comfortable around old friends who understood him than he did around his coworkers. For the first time since he'd joined Puddlemere he let out a sigh of relief. It was nice to be with a family again. Sure, the guys on the team were nice, but nothing would ever beat the feeling of standing in the middle of the cramped Weasley kitchen with everyone smiling at him.

"Now I know how much you love us, Oliver, and how you can't stand to live with out us and all, but why the heck are you over here?" George asked teasingly.

"Well...I was hoping your dad could teach me something..." Oliver bit his lip, "I was just wondering how to use a tellyphone."

"Now why in the world does a wizard like you need to use a telephone?" George looked puzzled.

"Um...When in New York I...I..." Oliver felt all the eyes on him. "I met a girl, a Muggle and I promised I'd call."

"A girl?" Mrs. Weasley immediately plopped down to inquire. Being a woman, her natural inclination to gossip took over, "tell me everything!" Oliver quickly retold his story of meeting Izzy to the Weasley clan, leaving out the more personal details like how his heart beat and the goodbye kiss on the hand. Those were his, only his.

Finally the interrogation ended and Oliver headed off with Mr. Weasley to use a Muggle telephone. "Don't yell," Mr. Weasley instructed, "We learned that lesson one day when Ron tried to call Harry, upset those Muggles quite a bit with all his screaming." After dialing the number Oliver's heart leapt to hear the phone ring.

"Hello" a voice on the other end answered.

"Izzy Bella?" Oliver said confused.

"Yeah it's me. What do you want?" She maintained the flat tone in her voice even though she was smiling ear to ear upon receiving the phone call.

"This is Oliver. Wow, it's really you." He laughed nervously, "Sor....um...I've never made an overseas phone call before I wasn't sure how it would work."

"Well it sounds just fine to me," Izzy said, not noticing she was softening her tone.

Mr. Weasley left the room and the phone conversation continued for a good hour after he was gone. As Mr. Weasley entered the kitchen where his curious family was waiting he laughed, "I think we'll be seeing a lot more of Oliver now." Even Mr. Weasley could tell that he really liked the girl. As hard as he was trying to be coy, his inexperience did not help his ability, his true feelings shone through his deep brown eyes every time he mentioned Izzy. When he hung up the phone he suddenly felt sad, he didn't want to say goodbye to her. She was rude, she was crude, but at the same time she was amazing and captivating. His only thought was, _wow_.

Self-consciously Izzy looked around her apartment. She knew no one was there but she was sure she was exuding happiness and didn't want anyone to see. "Damn it," she whispered with a smile. Biting gently on her lip to contain her joy she let out a sigh of romantic fancy. The first smile her small apartment had ever seen. _Note to self,_ she thought. _Never talk to cute strangers. _Izzy Bella sat alone in her apartment another night, however something had changed, she could no longer shelter herself from human emotions. She'd spent her entire life in her apartment trying to shut the world out, but she could no longer do it. Something had changed within her heart. Emotion had entered the life of Izzy Bella.

Puddlemere Quidditch team sat nervously in the locker room. Once again, it was time for their monthly meetings with Brenten Doyle. He was the coldest, harshest man anyone had ever known and they all feared him. Rumors still swirled about his questionable allegiances during the war and no one wanted to cross him to find about if the stories were true. The team had been waiting for an hour, but all of them knew better than to leave. A chaser had made that mistake once and lost his job on the spot. Even though he had been the best chaser on the team, he disrespected Doyle and that was the end of his Quidditch career. Luckily, this meeting turned out much better than that one. Doyle showed up for a five minutes to tell them, "You're doing good, keep it up or I'll have your heads." It seemed an idle threat, but the passionate fervor in his voice convinced each and every player that he meant it. As he walked into the locker room, Oliver felt a cold chill go up his spine. He never wanted to cross this man, ever.

After practice Oliver was heading to New York to surprise Izzy. No one knew he was going, and he hoped that he wasn't needed for emergency practices over the weekend. Oliver had no real plans, he just wanted to show up at the coffee shop where Izzy worked and see her again. He figured he'd just apparate over there, complain a bit about the long "plane" ride and then come back after a day or two. After hours of phone conversation Oliver was dying to see her in person again. He didn't know what to expect if he saw her again, he only knew that he had to, for his own sake he had to. He thought about her all the time, which was way too much in his mind. As much as he liked Izzy, she was still second priority to Quidditch. He didn't want to lose his focus. Quidditch was everything, his life; his past and his future.

Luckily, Oliver had managed to go to a Muggle library, get on some strange network known as the Internet, and find directions to Izzy's coffee shop in New York. Percy had come along to help him navigate the Muggle library.

"Once I did a report for the ministry on it," Percy explained. "Fascinating invention, the computer and the Internet are amazing. I thought about telling Dad about it, but I figured he'd start collecting computers and would become addicted to the Internet," Percy laughed at his father's obsession with Muggles.

Oliver had never really known Muggles till Izzy. He had known squibs and Muggle-borns, but they were quite different than actual Muggles who knew nothing about magic or the magical world. Maybe that's why he liked Muggles. They never went around worrying about "He Who Must Not Be Named" or purebloods, or any of the corruption that the wizarding world suffered. They had their own problems, some just as bad as the wizarding world-- but at least they were different problems.

After the research trip to the library, Oliver went off to get what he needed for his short trip to New York and Percy went back to the Burrow, probably to write 100 letters to the ministry about cauldrons or something silly of the sort.

The expression on Izzy's face when Oliver walked into the coffee shop was priceless. She saw him and fumbled, spilling coffee everywhere, growling under her breath, "Damn it! Look what you made me do." One of her co-workers grinned and let out a giggle, only to receive an evil glare from Izzy. Trying to hide her giggles she offered to find Oliver a seat. When they were out of the Izzy's line of vision the girl started laughing again.

"Never did I think I would see Izzy so thrown by someone. You must be something. Funny that she hasn't mentioned you; not that she actually mentions anyone," the little blonde girl chattered speedily as they walked to a corner booth. She was sweet and naive looking, exactly the opposite of the cursing Izzy Bella ("Damn it") who could still be heard cleaning up the mess from the coffee spill. "You know I'd offer to take your order, but I figure Izzy would rather do that herself. It's not too often she has people come see her. To be honest, before now I can't think of anyone who's been here to see her." The little girl continued to talk Oliver's ear off, "Look at me here, rambling on and not even introducing myself. My name is Sandy, I've been working with Izzy for over a year now."

"I'm Oliver," for the first time he got a word in.

The girl replied with a squeal of delight, "You're Scottish! Did you travel all this way just too see Izzy?" Not even pausing to let him answer she continued, "I'm so jealous. That's so sweet."

Finally Izzy showed up to relieve Oliver of Sandy's company. "I'll take over from here Sandy." The girl smiled and quickly went back to her tables. "Annoying isn't she? She'll talk your ear off, but she's actually a sweet kid. And if you tell her I said that I'll personally kill you."

"I didn't think she was that annoying, a little talkative but...."

"You haven't worked with her for over a year," Izzy rolled her eyes. "Now what the hell do you think you're doing here?"

Oliver shrugged, "I was just in the neighborhood and decided to stop by"

"You're disgustingly sweet, and I do mean that as an insult. Did you see the disaster you caused over there? I'll probably lose their tip because of you," Izzy plopped down in the booth across from Oliver.

By now Oliver had learned not to apologize every time Izzy insulted him. "Maybe they'll feel sorry for you and tip you anyways," Oliver offered hopefully.

"Yeah right, keep it up Mister Positivity," Izzy mustered up as much sarcasm as she could. Actually his strange positive attitude made Izzy smile, and even stranger, it made Izzy hope. She was surprised, even appalled by her reactions to the strange Scotsman. "Now seriously," she actually said gently, "Why are you here?"

"Am I allowed to be honest without being told I'm disgusting?" Oliver asked teasingly, "I couldn't' get you out of my mind. I just had to see you again to make sure it wasn't a dream." He grinned at her as she rolled her eyes. "And this time I brought a camera so I'd have proof."

"You're crazy! You're gonna have me running all over this city like a tour guide. I'm not giving you a tour of New York, you can pay someone to do that!"

"I didn't want a picture of New York, you can find those anywhere on the Internet. I wanted a picture of you. My friends were beginning to think I was hallucinating so I had to get some proof."

In spite of herself Izzy laughed. "We should get out of here before someone sees me smile. You'll ruin the persona, Oliver. You already did considerable damage by making me drop those cups!" Izzy put on her game face like she was taking him elsewhere to chew him out (as naive as Sandy seemed she didn't buy Izzy's act, and gave Oliver a smile as he went out the door). Izzy had been working at the coffee shop for a number of years and leaving privileges. She always worked more hours than scheduled, and rarely took a day off. She had no reason to and no one to go home to. "So where are we headed?" she asked happily, excited to take her first day off.

"Err...I hadn't actually thought about that. What do you guys do for fun here?" Oliver inquired curiously.

At first Izzy could do nothing other than stare at him blankly. _Is he for real?_ "You came all the way to New York and you don't even have some sublime date planned?" She asked in exasperation. She was aghast. Never before had Izzy heard of anyone who just randomly showed up to New York and didn't have any idea of what they wanted to do. Oliver just stood there uneasily giving Izzy a week smile. Inside his head was another story. _STUPID, _he told himself._ Did you expect to just have coffee and leave? No Muggle would ever believe that act._ Izzy broke the awkward silence. "I have the perfect idea," she said with an evil grin. _Uh oh,_ Oliver thought to himself.

Next thing Oliver knew he was standing on wheels at a place Izzy referred to as "the skate park". Clumsily, Oliver stood watching Izzy gracefully roll around on her skates. Oliver tightened his grip on the bench; he didn't even dare take one step in the skates for fear that he might fall. _No wonder wizards only have one sport; this is horrible!_ Whereas Oliver was drowning in misery, Izzy was delighting in watching his gawky awkward movements. "Come on Oliver you had to have skated before as a child. It isn't that hard. It's like riding a bike, you never forget how!"

Glancing up from his feet he looked straight in her eyes, "I've never skated or rode a bike before!" Izzy just snickered and seized his hand pulling him away from the bench and out onto towards the pavement. Clutching her arm for dear life, Oliver could feel himself toppling over from the moment he stood up on the skate. Izzy had to catch him too many times to count before they both went down in an entanglement of limbs. In spite of herself Izzy was laughing out loud as her and Oliver sat on the grass. Luckily, even if he had no coordination, Oliver had good aim and had managed to fall onto the grass instead of the concrete. "So I'm definitely not a skater!" Oliver announced as he pulled off the skates. "My life long dream has been dashed and it's all your fault," he gave Izzy a pseudo evil glare.

"What?" She said playfully smacking him across the shoulder. "You're life-long dream? I was lucky to convince you to put those skates on. You needed to figure out sooner or later that you we're a sucky skater. I just helped you realize it so you can find a new life long ambition. If you were a professional skater, you'd be the suckiest one in the history of skating. Now can we please return those skates before you destroy them!"

"I wasn't that bad was I?" Oliver laughed at Izzy insults.

"You were the worst I've ever seen. I've seen four year olds with more skills than you," she rolled her eyes and dusted off her clothing. "Next time you plan on falling like a clumsy oaf, please don't take me down with you."

"A clumsy oaf you say?" Oliver pretended to fall, knocking her to the ground again.

"You idiot!" Izzy replied trying to sound as menacing and chastising as possible, but not succeeding at sounding either.

Oliver looked at the girl he was with. Her violet eyes glittered with natural beauty underneath all the make-up and piercings. At first glance she was still angry and rude, but Oliver found her captivating and unique. For a moment he considered kissing her but then he decided against it. After all, he wanted to live to see her again. Anyway, he considered himself a gentleman, and gentlemen don't make unwanted advances.

To her alarm, Izzy felt disappointed when Oliver didn't kiss her. At first she was a little pissed, then she realized she would have been pissed if he tried anything. He didn't try to take advantage of her like other guys. For once, she honestly believed a guy's motives weren't physical. She'd always been a firm believer that guys only wanted one thing (sex, sex and more sex) but this guy was astonishingly different. _Maybe I've found one that thinks with his brain, not his..._

As it got dark, Izzy dragged Oliver into one of her favorite dance clubs. "I don't know how to dance," Oliver continually objected. He watched as people dressed in all kinds of attire headed into the club with one objective in mind: finding an attractive member of opposite sex. Oliver felt underdressed in his T-shirt and blue jeans but Izzy declaring it was "all ok since I know the doorman."

Once more he repeated his redundant objection. Izzy rolled her eyes (which seemed to be a common reaction for her) and viciously replied, "You have to be better at it than skating." Oliver shrugged; she had a very valid point. They had never had dances at Hogwart's like he'd heard Muggle schools did. Actually, the year after he graduated they had a ball, but that did Oliver no good because he hadn't attended. _I guess this trip is all about new experiences,_ Oliver noted to himself, quickly adding, _and new feelings._

As they stood at the door to Izzy's apartment, Oliver thought about the fun he'd had. Sure, skating had been terrible, but dancing had been fun (_especially with Izzy _he added to himself). Now for the first time in Izzy's life, she was going to let someone into her apartment. When Oliver had planned this little trip he hadn't even thought about where he would stay or anything like that, so Izzy being the gracious (and complaining) host she was, offered her couch. She had said it was the least she could do after he so "graciously fell on his ass for her".

As Izzy unlocked the door she couldn't help but reprimand herself. She considered her apartment her domain. _Your letting him in,_ her mind warned her heart. _You could get hurt_, her mind reminded her. Izzy shook off her inhibitions, after all he was just sleeping on the couch for one night and he had flown all the way from Scotland to see her. It was the least she could do (and the most she would do for that matter).

Whereas Izzy's original intentions had been to head straight to bed, she ended up staying up most of the night talking to Oliver and watching movies. Finally, at 3:37 in the morning, Izzy received her kiss. Actually she initiated it. As they were lying there watching movies, she decided she was ready and if he wasn't then too bad for him. It was a quick but passionate kiss, catching Oliver by surprise (not that he didn't enjoy it). _Wow,_ they both thought in unison before they headed off to separate beds.

The tantalizing aroma of eggs and coffee awoke Izzy in the morning. She crawled out of the bed quite curious as to who was cooking in her kitchen (which rarely ever got used). There in his boxers stood Oliver frying an egg. "Don't tell me you cook! I'll never be able to get rid of you," she groggily groaned and took a seat at the table.

"My grandma taught me to cook. I've been cooking breakfast for her for years. Here you go," he sat a plate filled with bacon, eggs and biscuits before her.

"Oh my God, this looks good. I usually don't even eat breakfast," she said while practically drooling over the food. _Too damned perfect_ she thought once again, _he's too damned perfect to be real._


	4. The Lie That Ruins All

Authors Note: This is a short chapter. Sorry it took awhile to get up here, I've not been in an editing mood lately. But tra-la it's edited.  
  
Disclaimer: You bloody well know that I don't own Harry Potter...but Izzy's mine! (you think the fact this is "fan"fiction already shows that I don't own it).  
  
Chapter 4 The Lie That Ruins All

Back in Scotland Oliver sat quietly in his grandma's kitchen. It had been years since he had come "home" and the place hadn't changed a bit. For some reason, seeing Izzy had made Oliver want to return to the only place he called home. Not that their was anything there for him here, there was only his past. Slipping silently up to the attic, Oliver started to look for his family's photo album. He wanted to remember the good times. Being with Izzy made Oliver almost feel as though the past were just that: the past. As silently as he had arrived, Oliver left his grandma's house, not even stopping once to say hello to his grandma. Oliver apparated back to the Quidditch pitch. It once again time to distract his mind from his feelings.

"Hey Oliver!" Rance's blue eyes twinkled mischievously as he walked through the locker room. "Don't look so glum! Did your date not go well?"

"How did you know about my date?" Oliver asked.

"Well the guys and I came over to your place to surprise you, but it was us that got the surprise. You weren't there. So we just put two and two together," Rance gave a "knowing" wink.

"Why did you want to surprise me?" Oliver was puzzled. He never really hung out with the guys. He played Quidditch and slept, and that was his life.

"You haven't heard yet?"

"Heard what?" Oliver didn't have a clue what Rance was talking about.

"You're the rookie of the year! Apparently you impressed someone." Rance gave him a pat on the back and that was the end of it. Oliver couldn't help but grinning to himself. It really did feel like the good times again. That was the end of discussion. Oliver didn't want to make a big deal out of it. It was just an award. Rance had only one more question, and it threw Oliver for a loop, "You gonna take Izzy or what?" _Oh hell!_ Oliver thought to himself. _Izzy still doesn't know that I'm a wizard or that I play Quidditch._ He didn't know what to do. He had to have a date, but he didn't know how to tell Izzy. "Don't tell me you didn't tell her Oliver!"

"Am I just thick or something? I sure didn't tell her anything and being magical," Oliver frowned. "Hadn't even realized it was something that needed telling."

"What did you tell her you did for a living?" Rance looked perplexed.

Oliver winced, "I told her I was a Rugby player."

-ooooo-

_Ring Ring Ring_. Oliver sat nervously twitching his thumbs waiting for Izzy to pick up. He wanted to tell her, he needed to tell her that he was a wizard. His award's banquet was a month away, and if he didn't want to go alone he had to go with her. It had been only a month ago he had met her, but he was already enamored as he had never been before. He had always thought _Quidditch is the only thing I need_, but suddenly it wasn't true anymore.

"Hey Izzy," was his gleeful response when she picked up the phone.

"Oh Oliver, hello," replied coyly.

"I was wondering if I could visit next weekend?" Oliver couldn't tell her over the phone. He had to talk to her in person.

"Since when do you inform me of your visits?"

"Since now I guess," Oliver replied meekly.

"Is something wrong with you? You sound strange," Izzy said suspiciously.

"No, nothing is the matter. Everything's perfect; well, it will be if I can visit, that is," he tried to put on a happy ton,e even though his worries were taking over. Things had been so perfect for so long, but Oliver had trouble believing they would stay that way. _My life just doesn't work that way_ he thought to himself. _Never has and never will._

"Sure. I'll get tickets to a Broadway show or something touristy like that. Is that good with you?"

"It's perfect," Oliver lied. It wasn't that he didn't want to see a play. Oliver was apprehensive because he knew the time had come to tell Izzy the truth. "Bye Izzy I have to go practice."


	5. The Truth Rears It's Ugly Head

**Authors Note: Hopefully I'll still have time to edit now that I'm back at college. I should, considering I have no car or anything. But heres another chapter to enjoy  
Disclaimer: Unfortunately I wasn't the fortunate one to have Harry Potter pop into my head on a train. Isn't that just the worst luck? Well I suppose I do have Izzy...she's mine...  
  
Chapter 5 The Truth rears its ugly head**

"Ok Oliver I'm tired of your pretending; your nervous glances and twiddling your thumbs! Why are you really here?" Izzy was fuming, but with genuine reasons this time. The honest boy she had come to care about was hiding something, and it was really grating on her nerves. Sure, he hadn't done anything wrong; he was being his sweet usual self, but Izzy could tell he had ulterior motives for this visit.

"I'm sorry. I really am. It's just that we've been getting so close and the other day it hit me that we didn't really know enough about each other," Oliver said quietly. Izzy could almost feel a break-up speech coming on. "It's just that I care about you so much, more than I should, really and I want to get to know more about you."

"Is that all?" Izzy let out a laugh. "I thought it was something serious." She tried to pass it off with a laugh, but she knew that her past was something serious; something she didn't want to revisit. "Okay, I don't know where to start. I never knew my father, which might be why I'm such a bitch to guys," _I'll just tell him everything,_ she decided, "My mother raised me, she was my lifeline. My father was a very evil man. I was told he dabbled in- don't laugh at me Oliver for saying this- witchcraft and followed some Dark Lord guy. I've had people ask me if I were Wiccan or whatever and I've just went off on them because I'm nothing like my father. He's everything I hate." Oliver felt his heart drop. He wanted to cry, but he had to keep composure. "My mother had a hard life being a single mom. She died when I was 15 and instead of going into foster care I got a job and my own apartment. Since then I haven't been close to anyone, and I haven't felt much at all to be honest. That's my story. What's yours?"

For a few seconds Oliver's mind went blank. Finally he started. "I lost both my parents too. No one actually knows that about me. Actually they probably do, but I didn't tell them. When I was 9, my father was murdered at work. Then my mum got really depressed. She couldn't handle it. When I was 11, my mum killed herself. By that time I was at a boarding school and in the summers I came home and lived with my grandma. The only thing I've cared about since then I practice and make game plans day and night. I eat, drink, sleep and live rugby. It's been my entire life, which is probably why I'm so naive with girls as I am, I never thought about them till now. Rugby was all that mattered." Oliver had basically told the truth. Being a guy, he hadn't expanded on the emotional impact of his parents death. It was more than he could bear. It had always been more than he could bear, that's why he had poured his heart and soul into Quidditch. It was his lifeline, just as Izzy's mom had been hers. Oliver felt guilty for not telling her about Quidditch, but he had given her something even more dear to him: his secrets. Not once had he told anyone, none of his teammates or friends about his parents' deaths. They probably had all heard, but not from him. Oliver looked away and tried to harden his face. Last thing he wanted to do in front of Izzy was cry.

"Oh Oliver," Izzy said sweetly, "I had no idea. You can cry if you want to. Really you can."

"I don't want to Izzy. I never wanted to."

"I understand completely, actually. Who would have ever figured that the sweet Scottish athlete and the rude New Yorker waitress had so much in common?" Izzy laughed and Oliver smiled. Somewhere deep inside Oliver heard his mind saying, _Even with that much in common, you're still a wizard Oliver, and she hates magic. What she's going to say when she finds out you're everything she hates?_ Oliver ignored the voice and smiled at Izzy, that day he had realized he loved her.

Oliver sat in a small diner contemplating. He'd just had lunch with Rance and the subject of Izzy had come up. Rance's words still stung, "If she hates magic, she hates you, Oliver. You can't help who you are."Oliver knew he was partially right; magic was his whole life, no magic meant no Quidditch, no Hogwarts. Magic had a hand in every defining moment in his life. Everything from his father's death, to his education, to his chosen profession involved magic. Oliver didn't even know who he would be if he weren't a wizard. _Am I anything without magic?_ Oliver didn't even want to think about it. That wasn't the important question, anyways. The important question was what to do about Izzy. He couldn't just not tell her; but how could he tell her, without ruining everything.

_I have to tell her regardless of the consequences._ If she hated him because he was a wizard then the relationship was going nowhere anyways. Even as Oliver arrived at that conclusion, he knew it wasn't true. If he weren't a wizard, he and Izzy wouldn't have anything stopping them from being together. Even if the odds were against him, he loved Izzy and knew losing her would break his heart. His only hope was that Izzy loved him too, and could see past the minor detail that he held the very magical abilities she despised. He tried to reassure himself _If she loves me, it shouldn't matter that she thinks that magic ruined her life. _Izzy would be surprised to learn how much she had in common with her mother, Oliver only hoped she could see past his magic, unlike her mother. Finally reaching a conclusion, there was a small 'pop' and Oliver was no longer sitting in Hogsmeade.

Suddenly there was a timid knock on Izzy's door. Looking up from her book, Izzy debated answering it. Placing her book on the table, Izzy rose to answer the door. Standing on the other side of the wooden panel was a nervous looking Oliver. Letting out a started gasp, Izzy blurted out, "What the hell are you doing here?" At the same moment she gave him a huge unplanned hug. Releasing Oliver she scanned his face for a clue. He hadn't answered her question. "Oliver?"

"Hey Izzy," he said weakly.

"Hello Oliver," she imitated his tone, "Come on in." Sitting on the couch, she gestured to Oliver to sit next to her. "So what is it this time? Just in the neighborhood or is there an actual reason?"

"An actual reason," he said looking away from her beautiful face.

"Oliver," she said grabbing his face and forcing him to look into her eyes, "You know how much I care about you. You can tell me anything."

"Well first," he said gaining courage, "I want you to know that I'm falling in love with you. But I think you already know that."

"Just a little," Izzy said softly.

"Second I don't want you to hate me," he said preparing himself for the worse.

"I don't, Oliver. Now please tell me what this is about." Tension thickened the air making it almost hard to breathe. Whatever Oliver wanted to tell her couldn't be good. His stance was tense, his face unreadable and his tone somber.

"You're going to hate me when I tell you," he said honestly. "There's a little something I lied about." Noticing the appalled looked on her face Oliver felt horribly guilty. "Actually I'm not a Rugby player. I actually am a professional athlete though. I play Quidditch." Perusing her ever-changing expressions, Oliver couldn't tell if the word registered.

Eventually her face changed to a blank expression, "I've heard of that before." Her heartbreak was audible in every word. "My mother use to talk about it. My father played it..." Suddenly she stopped realizing what Oliver had been saying all along. "No don't' tell me...You can't be."

"I'm sorry Izzy. I am. I'm a wizard," with his confession, all warmth left the room.

"Get out," Izzy muttered, softly at first. "Get out of my home," her voice began to regain strength.

"Izzy it isn't my fault. It's not like I chose to be a wizard," Oliver pleaded.

"Get out," she started to yell.

Standing politely, Oliver nodded. "I love you. I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't even mean to meet you but I'm thankful that I did. I'll call you when I get back."

"Get out, Get out Get out!" Izzy broke down into tears. Standing up she started pushing Oliver towards the door. "You're a wizard. May the devil have you and your dark arts and murder."

"I'm not that kind of wizard," Oliver turned as Izzy continued to push him towards the door. "Not everyone is that kind of wizard. Never call me a follower of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Never. Izzy please."

"Get out you dirty monster," Izzy slammed the door in his face and collapsed in tears on the other side.

Outside the door, she could still hear Oliver muttering, "I'm sorry. I'm not evil I swear it. I swear it on my parent's grave." Even though he was locked outside her door he didn't have the heart to leave. Sitting against the chipping paint walls, he slammed the back of his head against the wall receiving a dull relieving pain. _I won't leave till she hears me out_, Oliver swore to himself. _I won't leave._ Izzy knew he was still sitting outside the door. She could hear his heavy breathing and agitated sighs. Lying next to the door, Izzy didn't feel like moving. She barely even felt alive enough to move. Hours later, after emotions and tears had exhausted themselves, Izzy dosed into a world of nightmares and sleep.

Waking up on the floor the next morning Izzy quickly looked around for a clock, "Oh shit," she muttered, "I'm going to be late for work." Quickly jumping to her feet she threw a shirt and a skirt on, glanced at her make-up free face in the mirror and reluctantly sat off to her work. Pushing her door open, she was surprised to meet the resistance. Pushing harder she discovered to her dismay that Oliver had fallen asleep in the hallway. Hitting him as hard as she could with the door, he suddenly sat up. "Get out of my way," she said bitterly."

"Oh, sorry, love. I guess I forgot you needed the door," he muttered groggily patting his hair down.

"Sure you did," Izzy stepped over him and walked down the hallway.

"Wait a second!" His sense became more alert. "Don't I get a chance to explain myself?"

"No," Izzy said angrily jabbing the elevator button. As soon as it opened she jumped in and tried to push the button to close the door. Oliver was quicker than the door though.

"It's not like I'm angry you're a Muggle!" Oliver stood in the elevator next to her, attempting to explain. His shirt was wrinkled from sleeping in the hall, and his hair was a mess but he just wanted to be closer to Izzy.

"A what?"

"A non-magical person Izzy. A lot of full-blooded wizards aren't too fond of Muggles, or Muggle-born wizards. I'm not like that. I'm not a bad guy." He didn't know how to make her see the prejudice he'd seen, the prejudice his friends had suffered from. He'd seen how the Slytherins looked at the "Mudbloods" as they called him.

"You practice dark magic, that's enough to make you a bad guy in my eyes."

"But it's not dark magic!" Oliver exclaimed.

"Just leave me alone from now on," Izzy stepped out of the elevator, leaving an exasperated Oliver alone listening to the echo of her footsteps  
  
**Do not fear! There is moe coming...seriously do I seem that cynical to end here? No I'm ont. But please do respond, it encourages me, and thanks to those who have.  
Also, if this is the only of my stories you read I suggest reading The First New Dawn, because its the favorite I've written.**


	6. Drunken Apologies

**Authors Note: The next chapter will come all in due time, but I have to get it beta read by someone first then I re-beta it so it might be a little more time. But thats okay right? Because I can gurantee this story is completely done and you will get the complete version someday!**

**Disclaimer: Nope, don't own, sucks to be. Oh, wait! Izzy's mine...but gosh darn it thats it!**

****

**Chapter 6 Drunken Apologies**

Weekend Hogsmeade trips were a treat for Hogwart's students. Ginny Weasley usually was no exception. However this weekend, the young laughter and friends who gathered at The Three Broomsticks only annoyed Ginny this week. She's just broken up with her boyfriend ("Stupid Git") which explained her rather unpleasant bad mood. Craving a drink but also solitude, Ginny slipped into The Hogshead. The Hogshead had a reputation for danger and shady customers. Hogwart's students avoided it for just that reason and Ginny slip quietly through the door hoping to be ignored there. Walking up to the counter Ginny ordered, "One butterbeer please."

"It'll be just a few minutes, miss," the bartender said barely acknowledging the young patron.

A few customers stood waiting at the bar. One woman wore a cloak that covered her face and Ginny took a few steps away from her; she'd heard that hags frequented this establishment. One guy kept arguing with the bartender and seemed to be the cause of the long line. "Come on. Let a guy get plastered when he's upset. What do you have to lose?"

"You're already plastered," the bartender laughed.

"So, all the better for you. The more beer I buy the more money you make," the man's slurred words prevent his argument from sounding logical. Ginny didn't want to stare, her mother had always smacked her upside the head if she eavesdropped on people, so with considerable effort she looked in the other direction.

"Maybe I just like you kid, and don't want to see you any drunker."

"I know you better than that!"

"Well maybe I just have a bet on Puddlemere next game and don't want to see their star keeper suspended, Oliver."

"OLIVER!" Ginny thoughtlessly exclaimed turning her head. "Oliver Wood?"

"Yeah that's me, and no, I'm not signing autographs," he didn't even look at Ginny.

"It was always Harry's autograph I wanted, not yours."

"Ginny Weasley? What are you doing in a place like this?" Oliver turned to the small red headed schoolgirl.

"Hogsmeade weekend. I think the real question is, why are you so drunk?" She shot him a look of disgust. His hair was messy and his eyes red. The generally graceful Oliver was stumbling clumsily through a bar.

"Izzy broke up with me," he said somberly. "And I still bloody want more beer!"

"I'm sorry Oliver. What happened?"

"I told her I was a wizard and now she thinks I'm a follower of Voldemort or something," he scratched his head in confusion. "To be honest, I'm not really sure I understand." In his drunken state Ginny doubted he understood anything, least likely an upset woman.

"If she thinks like that Oliver you're better off without her," Ginny placed a comforting hand on his back.

"No I'm not. I'll never be better off again," he said incoherently.

"And why's that?"

"Because, hell, I'm in love with her."

It took Ginny a minute to register what he'd said. "Then do something about it. Something other than getting drunk."

"Like what?" Oliver asked impatiently. He'd tried to reason with Izzy and it simply hadn't worked. Of course reasoning with someone when they were running late for work was a little difficult.

"I'll show you," Ginny grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the Hogshead. Pulling him down the street she popped into a building. "We're going to go tell Izzy how you feel?"

"We can't do that, you'll get in trouble Ginny!"

"When has a Weasley, other than Percy, ever been concerned with getting into trouble?" Ginny asked knowingly. Everyone in her family except her older brother Percy had been known for hilarious practical jokes and wild antics.

"None of the others ever went to New York City," Oliver stumbled to explain.

"Good. Then I'll be the first. Besides this transport center just opened. And they are very discreet. You have money to pay for this don't you?" For the first time Ginny looked unsure. The Weasleys were notoriously poor. Ginny had always had second hand-robes, books and even pets. There was no chance she could possibly afford a trip to New York.

"Of course I do. But it's not going to do any good." His voice was low and dark. He sounded so depressed and didn't want mention Quidditch. It was quite obvious to Ginny that Oliver simply wasn't himself, at least not without Izzy.

"Sometimes all you can do is try Oliver."

OooooO

Moments later Ginny and Oliver stepped out onto the streets of New York City. Ginny looked around in amazement as Oliver just tried to maintain his balance. "Okay, is that coffee shop where she works?" Ginny asked.

"Yeah," Oliver mumbled nervously. Suddenly he was aware of how drunk he really was. Trying to smooth his hair down and straighten his clothes, he looked across the street. "Ginny I look like crap."

"Yeah, just a little bit of crap though. You'll be fine. You're still twice as handsome as most men, and I don't say that lightly." Walking in the door Ginny walked straight up to Izzy, who she immediately recognized from Oliver's interrogation at the Weasley house. "Hello I'm Ginny Weasley and I want to know when you have a break."

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Izzy stared down the bold little schoolgirl.

"She's got a break any time she wants one," Sandy interjected from across the room.

"Thanks a lot Sandy, but I don't want one now."

"Well you need to take one now," Ginny said completely unfazed. Growing up with 6 brothers made a girl tough. Izzy didn't scare her; Fred and George's pranks were twice as scary and she didn't even want to think about Ron in the morning.

"Says who?"

"Me! And him," Ginny added pointing to Oliver.

Izzy's expression noticeably changed when she saw the drunken Oliver sitting sadly in a corner. Then as quickly as it had changed, it hardened again. "I don't want to talk to him."

"I don't care," Ginny told the older girl. "I found him drowning his sorrows in firewhiskey in Hogsmeade. You aren't going to do this to him. He's a good guy and he deserves to be treated like one."

"If he was a good guy he would've told me from the beginning," Izzy turned and walked into the kitchen.

Ginny followed. "You honestly wonder why he didn't tell you. Look how you Muggles treat us! Just because you don't understand you decide we're evil!"

"Well maybe he should've stayed away from us Muggles to begin with," Izzy's anger rose considerably.

"Maybe he should've just stayed away from judgmental Muggles who knew nothing about wizards," Ginny's eyes were fiery.

"My father was a wizard you little bitch! My father was a follower of the Lord Voldwhoever. I know a bit about wizarding and I know that no good guy would get involved in shit like that."

"OLIVER!" Ginny shouted from the kitchen. "Come here." Shakily, Oliver stood up and walked over to where the two girls were arguing. As he looked at Izzy's beautiful face tears started to sting his eyes. Pushing them back he looked towards Ginny in confusion. "Oliver tell her what happened to your father."

"He's already told me his father died at work. I don't see how that could make a difference," Izzy rolled her eyes. She wasn't just going to throw herself into Oliver's arms because she felt sorry for his sad past.

"Oliver tell her the whole story," Ginny demanded.

"My father was an auror. That means he fought dark wizards..."Oliver treaded carefully.

"So he was the lesser evil. See if I care."

Oliver looked at Izzy then swallowed the lump in his throat. "One day at work they got a report of He-who-must not be named torturing some Muggles. They told him not to go that it would be too late to save them by the time he got there. My father was a brave man; a true Gryffindor. He said he'd try anyways. So he went and turns out He who must not be named wasn't torturing anyone," Oliver's voice broke into a sob.

Instead of forcing Oliver to continue Ginny picked up the story. "It was a trap Izzy. A trap to kill the aurors-the good guys- and Oliver's father fell for it. When he got there they turned the Crucio Curse on him."

"I don't know what that is," Izzy tried to maintain her anger.

"It's the worse pain imaginable. It's supposedly worse than death. It's how BAD wizards torture good wizards. After they had tortured him sufficiently it was no longer fun for the death eaters. So they turned their wands upon him and did Avada Kedavra, which is..."

"The killing curse," Izzy muttered under her breath. She knew that one; her research into the dark arts had stumbled upon the horrid curse. 

"Now do you understand that Oliver isn't a bad guy? Why would he be? He lost his entire family to the dark arts."

"I didn't choose to be a wizard Izzy. That I still swear to you," Oliver's bloodshot eyes met Izzy's violet ones. "I did choose to be good though. I wish you would understand that."

"I'm sorry but I don't understand Oliver," Izzy said harshly. Pausing for a moment to think, her voice softened, "I suppose I can try though."

"Really," Oliver's face broke into a hopeful smile.

"Really Oliver," Izzy said reluctantly hating herself as the words slipped slowly from her lips, "I'll try to date a wizard."

Next thing Izzy knew Oliver had flung himself at her in the hugest of drunken hugs. "I missed you Isabella. I really did."

"My work here is done," Ginny beamed to herself.

"Oh crap!" Oliver said barely noticing Ginny. Instead of thanking her, he showered his attention upon Izzy. "I forgot. Would you go with me to the Quidditch awards?"

"What? Why?"

"I'm nominated for rookie of the year. I need to bring someone and that someone needs to be you," Oliver explained gradually sounding less and less intoxicated.

"Don't worry, she will Oliver," Ginny smiled knowingly and went into the coffee shop to order a drink.

"She's a little know-it-all isn't she?" Izzy rolled her eyes.

"Yeah. She's almost as spirited as you," Oliver laughed.

"Oh, shut up. Being drunk and cheesy is not an appealing combination. Besides you should get that little girl back to wherever she came from. I'm not keeping her. And I need to get back to work."

"So you'll go then."

"Yeah I'll go," Izzy nodded. "Is this a formal event?"

"You're suppose to wear dress robes, but you wear whatever you want. I don't care just come," Oliver fumbled his way to the doorway. "Love you Izzy." With that Oliver bounced out of the kitchen almost knocking over a pile of plates.

"I love you too Oliver," Izzy said quietly once he left the kitchen. "That's the entire problem," she grumbled hitting a iron pan as loud as she could with a spoon. The echoing rings were more peaceful than her thoughts, which she could not drown out.  
  
**I've seen people bribe readers for reviewers. However, as the girl I saw do that was a Slytherin and I'm a hufflepuff it won't happen. I'll be nice to you even if you are mean to me! But please do review, it makes me feel oh so warm and fuzzy inside!**


	7. Qudditch Awards

**Authors Note: I'm so lazy about betaing, and I'm truly sorry for that. Sometimes avoiding looking at grammer makes me happy--but this story is completely done and will be completely posted quickly enough. But anywyas, yes this is the typical Quidditch Award chapter which shows up in nearly EVERY Oliver Wood fiction, but in this case it's a necessary plot point for reasons you will soon see. Disclaimer: I'm a poor college student who doesn't own anything remotely Harry Potter related. **  
  
**Chapter 7: Quidditch Awards**

-OoOoO-

Diagon Alley fascinated and disgusted Izzy. Magic ran rampant, but there was something incredibly seductive about it. Wearing a pleated skirt, fishnets and a tank top, Izzy stood out in the crowd. Modestly dressed wizards in robes bustled about in the street. Looking towards Oliver, he immediately read her thoughts. "You're beautiful," Oliver grinned in his cheesy cute boy way. "They'll all be jealous of me."

"Oh shut up!" Izzy regained her composure. This was no time to be developing a "self-conscious" complex. They were different, what else did she expect. "I have no time for your romantic antics. I brought some of my own designs, they better not mind."

"Madame Malkin hasn't seen anything like you," Oliver laughed and forcibly grabbed her hand. Instead of pulling away, Izzy rolled her eyes. Walking hand in hand down the narrow cobblestone street, Izzy stole glanced at the storybook wooden buildings lining the street.

Watching Izzy argue with Madame Malkin proved to be the picture of hilarity. Izzy's New York high fashion sense apparently did not mix with traditional wizard's robe. "I want sheer materials," Izzy declared loudly.

"Sheer is impractical!"

"Sheer hangs beautifully and shows every layer of fabric," Izzy threw back. Madame Malkin huffed at Izzy, but uttered an incantation. Suddenly she held red and black sheer fabrics. "I want the bottom to be jagged," Izzy pointed to her drawing.

"But then it looks destroyed!"

"No, just stylish," Izzy laughed. 

"I'll never understand young muggle-borns and all their high notions about style. Practicality is more important than style any day in my robes."

"She's going to the Awards, Madame," Oliver popped in with calming advice. "It's not quite a practical occasion. Just give her what she wants. I'm paying enough for it." Izzy looked smugly at the elderly woman who merely complied. The mix of a wizard robe and Muggle dress that emerged from the clashing mindsets turned out quite breathtaking. Oliver handed his Galleon's to the shop owner and even offered a tip, for Izzy's attitude.

"So show me around this disgusting alley you love so much," Izzy linked arms with Oliver. She was still basking in her victory over the robe maker.

"It's not disgusting, it's wonderful," Oliver said in childlike wonder. "It still amazes me to this day Izzy."'

"Well it disgusts me. Is there anywhere we can get a decent drink around her?"

"Well yes," Oliver said cautiously thinking of how wonderful butterbeer was compared to Muggle beer, "but it won't be the type of drink you are used to."

"I don't care. I need something in me to be able to handle this place," Izzy kept the farce of an attitude even though she was awestruck with Diagon Alley.

"Right this way then, ma'am," Oliver opened an old wooden door to what sounded like a very shady establishment to Izzy, The Leaky Cauldron. The room was dark and wooden, not anything one would expect from a world famous tavern. Oliver plopped down on a stool at the bar, "Give me two butterbeers Tom."

"Who said you could order for me?" Izzy asked.

"Believe me, for someone who isn't used to wizard liquor you want butterbeer. Come on, trust a guy a little," he smiled. At a much younger age, Oliver had learned his lesson with experimenting with liquor when he'd gotten too drunk too fast off of some firewhiskey; he had a hangover for about a week afterwards.

An elderly wizard came to the counter carrying two mugs filled to the brink with a foamy beverage. "Oliver Wood! I haven't seen you here in ages. I thought you'd gotten to famous for the cauldron," he sat down the cups and shook Oliver's hand, grinning from ear to ear. "Not too often we get a heartthrob in here. And now who is the lovely lady? She's prettier than you Oliver I'd watch out."

"I'm Izzy," she shook his hand. Once he had turned away, Izzy couldn't resist the urge to crack a joke at Oliver's expense, "A heartthrob are you? Funny I didn't notice." On a more serious note she added, "Seems like everyone but me knew you were famous."

"Only the wizards," Oliver shrugged. "Quidditch is big. I hear it's the Muggle equivalent of football. Go ahead, try your butterbeer."

Izzy lifted up the mug and slowly slipped the warm golden liquid. Actually it tasted delicious, but Izzy didn't want to tell Oliver that. "It's definitely different," she sat the cup down with a clunk.

"If different means excellent in America, you're right," he laughed and drank half of his cup in one gulp. Raising the challenge Izzy chugged the rest of the cup. A few drinks later, Izzy and Oliver left Leaky Cauldron to do a little more shopping in Diagon Alley.

Looking around, Izzy feigned a disgusted look once again. Oliver couldn't help but chuckle at her. "What are you laughing about?" She shot at him.

"You may not know this Izzy. But I can completely read you," he said with a kind smile. She instantly knew what he meant; he could tell she was more fascinated than disgusted with Diagon Alley.

"Oh you can completely read me, can you?" Oliver only answered with a knowing shrug and coy smile. "Well, hell, then why pretend," Izzy blurted out and pushed Oliver into a dark alley. The passionate Muggle's kisses felt magical to Oliver. After a the kiss she looked at Oliver and asked, slyly, "Did you expect that."

"No," he replied honestly and tenderly kissed her forehead. "Did you expect that?"

"No," she said honestly leaning against Oliver's chest. While her passionate kiss seemed perfect and fiery, his gentle tender kiss made her knees week. "I didn't expect any of this," she said softly laying her head against Oliver's chest.

-OoOoO-

The Quidditch awards were an interesting occasion in the wizard world. They were completely hidden from Muggle eyes, but at the same time a spectacle the entire Wizarding world watched. It started small; a group of Muggle-borns who remembered awards shows such as the Oscars and Golden Globes had birthed the idea. By some form of luck, the muggle-borns had found a pureblooded supporter and the Quidditch awards had been birthed. In essence it was a charity event for St. Mungos, but the "good-deed" origins seemed forgotten in the glamour and glitz. Regular wizards could buy tables to eat with the award winning Quidditch players and other celebrities who were invited. The stars and their dates walked in down a purple carpet that shone with real moving shooting stars, they sat at elegantly decorated tables, and the food magically appeared on golden platters.

For one night, Oliver had begged Izzy to put aside her hatred and bad comments about magic. When they walked down the purple carpet an announcer, apparently the Dick Clark of the wizarding world, announced their names. "Miss Isabella and Mr. Oliver Wood," echoed around. The crowd murmured curiously as to why the girl had no last name, the answer was simple; Izzy had simply refused to claim her no-good abandoning father's name. 

Inside, the building gleamed with as much immaculate glitter as the red carpet did. As soon as they walked in the door Oliver's teammates practically swept him away in celebratory hugs and punches. Izzy stood back away from the rambunctious boys and soon found herself left behind on the dance floor. A familiar phenomenon occurred: Izzy rolled her eyes in annoyance. Two seconds later, Oliver came back to collect her and introduce her to the guys, but for two seconds Izzy had been seething with anger. "Izzy this is Rance Wilcome," Oliver introduced her to a jovial man with a kind face and mischievous twinkle in his eye.

"So this is the girl from New York," he asked suggestively. "It's nice to meet you hun'. Thanks for bringing our keeper through the city; we were trying to lose him, but you saved us the trouble of finding him again."

"Well," Izzy gave Oliver a cruel smile. "The boy doesn't know a damn thing about New York and doesn't have sense of direction at all. He was pathetic really. It would've taken a really sadistic person to leave him roaming the streets of New York in confusion."

All the guys around the circle guffawed at Oliver's embarrassment. Oliver merely smiled, "She's just a wee bit touchy. A little mad we left her over here." Oliver continued around the circle and introduced her next to Farren Tetec, who seemed really immature for his age to Izzy, then to Dennis Kilbore until Izzy had successfully forgotten the entire teams name except for Rance. 

Pointing across the room, Oliver lowered his voice, "That's our manager."

The man he pointed out was wearing the blackest of black robes and his face seemed trapped in a continual scowl. In one hand he had a glass of green wine and the other he hand was hidden suspiciously in his pocket, presumably gripping his magic wand. As Izzy stared at the man a shiver ran down her spine for a reason she couldn't quite place. There was something scary, bad and strangely familiar about that man. Seeing Izzy shudder Oliver took her hand. "He seems to have that effect on everyone, just imagine if you worked for him."

After countless introductions and a few stolen dances with Oliver's friends, Izzy finally got settled down with Oliver for the evening. Eventually she blocked out the world, her anger, the strange cold looks his manager gave her (she didn't know if it was because she was a Muggle or the piercings), and enjoyed Oliver's company. The evening was magical, in the perfectly wonderful non-evil sense of course.

**Authors Note: Next chapter has been Beta-read and just needs to be reviewed by me and will be up shortly. Please review to make me happy and maybe it'll encourage me (I'm a college student, I need all the encouragement short of kicking me I can get)**


	8. A Father Reappears

**Authors Note: Apparently I'm feeling kind today, I beta-ed another chapter for you. Actually, I'll be honest, I couldn't concentrate on my homework. This semester I have to read the entire New Testament for my Understand NT class--and I just couldn't force myself to read it anymore. And God wouldn't want me to drudge through his word, so I edited my fic instead. If Izzy's drunk behavior is not believable in this chapter I'm sorry, I've never been drunk so I don't know how it feels.  
  
Disclaimer: Unforunately I own very little. I can pack my entire life in a van an move it to my dorm and back, and these characters (except Izzy) are not mine, so they don't go with me.  
**

  
**Chapter 8: A Father Reappears**

The pale dawn light glided through the dirty locker room windows. It was Five AM and Oliver was already soaring through the sunrise, practicing his dives. This early morning flight was no dismal escapism. Actually Oliver had come to the pitch for an entirely opposite reason. Oliver's heart had miraculously grown wings and in order to prevent his heart from bursting out of his chest and joining the doves in the sky, Oliver had pulled out a broom and went flying with it.

When he walked back into the locker room his heart still seemed to be attempting escape as it pounded loudly. Oliver was startled to see another figure sitting in the dark room. "Hello Mr. Doyle," Oliver hoped his voice hadn't shook when he'd greeted him.  
"Hello Rookie of the Year," even though Mr. Doyle's remark was obviously congratulatory, it neither seemed positive nor pleasant. Instead every syllable dripped slowly like icy water in December.

"Thanks sir, couldn't done it without you," Oliver tried to keep his composure. Why was their elusive distant manager sitting here in the locker room waiting for Oliver?

"But onto more important matters Oliver. I don't want you distracted from Quidditch," as if leaping across a canyon he jumped subjects. "That girl you were with is a Muggle isn't she?"

"Yeah, Isabella is a Muggle; it's not a big deal though," Oliver shrugged pretending his mind wasn't rushing with possibilities of why Mr. Doyle was asking him these questions.

"Well, be carefully with _Isabella_," he emphasized her name. "Muggles aren't a breed to mess with Oliver. Even when they are the most beautiful most amazing women in the world, it isn't worth it."

"All due respect Mr. Doyle, but it's my life to live."

"And it's my Quidditch team to run, Oliver. Be weary with the Muggle woman. They aren't on the same level as us and they don't understand our world. It's like mixing breeds of animals such as horses and donkeys; the offspring isn't ever quite right."

"I'm not sure how I feel about you calling my girlfriend a donkey, sir," Oliver's face was beginning to turn red.

"Just let me make myself clear, if your Quidditch game suffers due to you liaison with the Muggle girl, you will break up with her or never work for another Quidditch team in you life. And yes, Oliver, I will fire you. I don't give a damn if you're the rookie of the century if you aren't winning matches on the pitch."

With that, the cold presence known as Mr. Doyle stood up and left the room. It was the most Oliver had ever heard from him, and it was nothing Oliver ever wanted to hear from anyone. If it had been any other person, anyone who frightened him less, Oliver's blood would've boiled over and he wouldn't have kept his cool. But something about Mr. Doyle's aura pushed back his anger and replaced it with an uncanny fear.

-OoOoO-

"I can't believe you let that bastard say that," Izzy shrieked at the top of her lungs.

"You don't understand, Izzy," Oliver looked pleadingly into her eyes, "It was Brenten Doyle. Just seeing him from a distance gives me cold chills." 

As much as Oliver pleaded, Izzy wasn't listening. In her imagination she'd made Oliver her gallant knight coming to her defense, and here he had utterly failed. "Bloody hell, Oliver are you trying to tell me you're too big of a chicken to stand up to one mere wizard."

"No I'm telling you I'm a sorry ass and didn't stand up to my manager who could fire me," Oliver caught himself swearing and grimaced as the word coming from his mouth.

"Well you're right Oliver. You are a sorry ass. Have you forgotten how hard it was for me to come here? And you can't simply stand up to one person. Oliver, I'm fighting my own self daily just to be with you. I've had to put aside everything I know, everything I believe, and open my mind to something I thought was despicable...in fact something I still think is despicable all for the sake of you. And here you are sacrificing absolutely nothing!"

"I don't know what you want from me, Isabella! I said I was sorry and honey, I'm so sorry that I let you down." His last intention was to hurt her, but it seems that was just what he'd done. He reached for her hand, trying to make her understand, "but this could've cost me my career and who knows what else."

Quickly pulling her hand away Izzy uttered words that turn Oliver's heart to ice. "It's nice to know you'd choose you're career over me." With those dreaded words, Izzy slammed the inn door and sped down the street trying to reach a safe haven before the tears flowed freely. She loved Oliver, but she still couldn't bring herself to love wizardry. The hatred of magic instilled by her mother still burned deep inside Izzy. Though she pushed and repressed, it resurfaced and smoldered anew. Her steps slowed and she turned back to look towards the window where she new Oliver would be watching. He knew better than to chase her. He would wait till she had cooled down then come looking for her; Izzy almost smiled at how well Oliver knew her. Glancing back at the window she could see his pained puppy dog eyes following her down the street. "Damn it," she uttered to herself and quickly found a bar to slip into.

"Do you have a backroom?" she asked the bartender quietly.

"Sure do missy," he replied still wiping the counter.

"Then I'll have a bottle of firewhiskey," Izzy ordered the strongest drink she could think of.

"That's strong stuff, missy," the bartender finally looked up at the anguished girl. Teardrops clung to her eyelashes and her hands were shaking. As a bartender, he'd learn to notice when a patron was upset and try to be sensitive to it in order to protect them.

"I'm tough, I can handle it," Izzy slid her money across the bar.

"Back rooms down the hallway and up the staircase. Not many people use it, and most go to drown their sorrows privately missy. Hope that's not what you're up to," he handed her the bottle. He could tell from her demeanor some deep wound was hurting her. He stopped just short of asking what was bothering her; instead he slid her change across the bar and offered a comforting smile.

"Afraid so, sir," Izzy attempted a weak grin.

The hall leading to the backroom looked as though it hadn't been dusted in centuries and Izzy was afraid to touch the handrail due to the inches of dust that lingered there. Opening a creaky door, Izzy found herself in a rather large dark back room. The only light sources were beams of sunlight sneaking through a dusty window and old candles, which made the room smoky and dim. One other person sat in a corner booth and goose bumps rose on Izzy's arms as she passed him. Sitting in the opposite corner, Izzy started downing the firewhiskey. A welcomed numbness gradually seeped into her head and she started humming to herself. Under the influence of alcohol, all problems seem to disappear and she was a little girl in love with a cute boy. Some old romantic melody graced her lips as she let out a giggle, the firewhiskey was stronger than she expected. Izzy stood up to leave, she had the sudden urge to run back and kiss Oliver. In her haste she knocked her bottle off the table. Chasing it across the room, she ended up crawling under the table of the only other patron.

"So this is what Oliver Wood is wasting his time on," a dark voice from above the table rained on Izzy's happiness.

"What do you mean 'wasting his time," Izzy hit her head on the way out from under the table. The alcohol definitely inhibited Izzy's judgment, so her arguing skills were unquestionably sub-par.

"Isabella the Muggle," the man's voice made _Muggle_ sound worse than any swear word Izzy had ever used.

"So what if I'm a Muggle? Oliver loves me anyways," Izzy said boldly much like a child would defend herself.

"Isabella... you know that name sounds oddly familiar," the man said. "Does _Isabella_ the Muggle have a last name or is she an unwanted bastard child."

"Don't speak to me that way! Even if I were a bastard you're a bigger one," she traded insults with the older man who obviously held his alcohol better.

"Maybe I am, _Isabella Doyle_," he laughed as her eyes opened widely in shock and her jaw fell open.

"How did you know that," she whispered fearfully, "no one is allowed to know that."

"Maybe I have a bit of seer blood in me," the man said sarcastically and took a swig out of an almost empty bottle. He was getting a kick out of toying with the obviously intoxicated girl. Nothing quite boosted his mood like tormenting someone who didn't quite grasp why.

Suddenly Izzy's eye's widened. "I know who you are. I bloody know who..." she stood up in complete shock trembling. She scuttled backwards, tripping over her own feet in her haste.

"No one bloody knows who I am dear," the man was unfazed. He carelessly took a swig of whiskey, "That's the wonderful thing about being me."

"Maybe nobody else does, but I do," the drunk girl said in a voice so serious that the man grinned menacingly.

"Well if you do then we have a problem, Isabella Leanne Doyle," he stood from the table and his dark presence paralyzed the girl. "A really big problem."

"Stay away from me. I'll scream for help." Izzy used all her strength to make her voice sound brave but she faltered as her voice weakly cracked.

"No you wont," he spoke to her like a disobedient child. A few phrases of what sounded like gibberish soundproofed the room. "Isabella Leanne, aren't you going to hug your daddy?"  
  
**A/N: If you review, odds are I'll swing by and check out your fanfiction. Isn't that a lovely trade off? I hope you like this chapter, apparently Izzy's mysterious past is more important than any guessed!**


	9. She's Gone

**Authors Note:** Half of this chapter almost got cut. I debated forever whether it belonged in the story or not. And I've neglected up to this point to thank my wonderful beta-reader Molly. Bravo for Molly. **Disclaimer**: Fanfiction a story based on or derived from someone elses work (book, movie, show, etc). The author of fanfiction owns none of the rights to the characters or stories except that which is theirs to begin with.

**Chapter 9 She's gone!**

"She didn't come back last night Rance," said visibly shaken Oliver. His eyes were red and bloodshot from staying awake all night searching the town for Izzy. The coffee cup he held shook in his hands. He held firm to it with an iron grip, which was odd because Oliver normally didn't drink coffee. It appeared that coffee had been his foul weather friend and kept him company through the night. "I don't know where she is."

"Did you get in a fight or something?" Rance treaded lightly. As much as Rance loved Oliver, he hated getting in the middle of relationship problems.

"Yes," Oliver admitted. "It was over Brenten Doyle. He came to me in the bloody locker room and gave me a warning about messing around with Muggles. She got all pissed off and said something about me choosing my job over her and left."

"Do you think she'll come back?"

"That's the thing Rance. I thought she would come back last night. That's how it works with Izzy; at least that's how I thought it worked." His relationship with Izzy had been going on for a while; he'd gotten used to the pattern and expected this was just another emotional blowup and would pass. Apparently it hadn't passed.

"Maybe she just needed more time Oliver. She's still adjusting to the wizarding world. Maybe she just needed a break."

"Maybe." The word was meant to sound hopeful, but everything Rance said sounded absolutely dismal to the distraught Oliver.

"You should get some rest, kid. Big match tomorrow," Rance hated bringing up the game, but as a teammate he felt obligated. Plus, as a bachelor, he felt uncomfortable giving Oliver love advice. He was ready to change the subject.

"I can't rest until I know she's okay," Oliver's voice sounded frantic again, "I mean anything could happen. Izzy was drunk; plus gorgeous and roaming the streets. I don't even know if she's safe, I just want to know she's safe Rance." The sleep deprivation and extraneous circumstance wore on Oliver's metal state. Once again, he was completely loosing his cool.

"Oliver, Izzy's a tough girl. She'll come back when she's ready and she can take care of herself. She's been living in New York City alone for years...she knows how to handle herself," Rance tried to remind his friend there was a time before Oliver had been watching over Izzy. She'd handled life just fine.

"You're right aren't you?"

"As always," Rance punched him playfully in the arm, trying break the intensity of the conversation. Looking at Oliver earnestly he asked, "You still don't believe me do you?"

"No," Oliver sighed. 

-OoOoO-

_ AN:This is the section that almost wasn't part of the story _

The first thing Izzy became aware of was the terrible headache pounding inside of her skull. Opening her eyes, she found herself sitting in a green armchair in a strangely dim room.

"Good morning dear," said a cold voice. Opening her eyes further she saw Brenten Doyle, her abandoning no-good father, sitting across from her.

"Go to hell," she muttered in the haze of her hangover. "Dante left a place for you in Caina-- betrayers of family."

"Dante's Inferno—intriguing Muggle fairytale, though I'm pretty sure it's completely rubbish."

"Bastard. Who do you think you are?" Izzy sat up in the chair unwilling to let him see her down.

"Frankly, I think I'm your father. I also think you have a major attitude problem; you're just like a teenager rebelling against her parents."

"How would you know, you left your child as an infant." Izzy was like a cornered animal fiercely fighting her way out with words.

"Score one for Isabella," he laughed coldly. "Really think I care who fares better in the insult battle? We all know where this is going. I'll win the war."

"Can I leave now that you've made you're little point or whatever. I can't really remember what it was, but I'm sure it changed my life. I'll be a better daughter and a better person for knowing you. Now I'll just be on my way," Izzy stood up and took a step towards the door.

Brenten Doyle's cold eyes stared harshly down at Izzy. "I'm afraid leaving isn't an option, dear. You are privy to a few too many of my secrets."

"Damn you! You can't keep me here against my will." That said, Izzy made a beeline for the door but he grabbed her shoulders shoving her back in the chair.

"With everything your mother told you do you really think I give a damn about what I can and can't do? Now we just have some details to work out. Firstly, I'm sorry but I'm taking those grotesque body mutilations out of your face," with those words his hands reached for the diamond stud in Izzy's lip. She reacted quickly, a hard smack met the side of his face pushing him back.

"Feisty. You know I didn't want it to come to this," he muttered some more gibberish and Izzy's hands and feet were bound by invisible ropes. The harder she struggled, the tighter the bonds got. He removed the stud from Izzy's lip, and then took the barbell out of her eyebrow. With Izzy immobile the jewelry came out with ease and her father added in a pseudo fatherly voice, "There. That's much better."

"Get on with it, bastard," Izzy said impatiently positive he was about to kill her.

"Get on with what, dear?"

"Killing me. Get it over with." She hated the melodramatic drawing out of the death scene. She didn't want to give him the gratification of a huge scene.

"Oh I'm not going to kill you. Even for me it's a major faux pas to kill your own daughter." His fake smile chilled her bones. "Besides," he said brushing her cheek, "You have your mother's face. I could never kill her."

**Thanks for reading, I'll be back with more shortly. Please respond.  
  
Reviewers: **Riley: It isn't really bribery because I write for the sake of writing. With or without responses I end up posting at the same time either way. What really controls my writing is my schoolwork. College is a drag like that

Pamie: I'm glad you like it! I noticed the lack of Oliver fics myself.


	10. Losing Sucks

**Author's Note:** I really am a terrible editor. Editing is not fun so I take forever to do it, thus the story is spread out even though its all written. I'm getting a little miffed that no one responds though. I've seen much worse get much more attention. But I write to practice what I'll be doing for the rest of my life so thats what really matters.  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter or anything else related to Harry Potter. I do own Izzy, Mr. Doyle, Rance, Farren, etc

**Chapter 10 Losing sucks**

"OLIVER WOOD," Brenten Doyle's temper boiled. "You lost that match for us. You're ass is lucky we've done so well this season because fortunately ,we're still in the tournament. But you are NOT to screw up again." The miserable keeper merely slumped against the wall not looking at his angry manager. He didn't need Brenten Doyle to tell him how badly he'd done; he already knew that. The world famous Quidditch player had played like a first year student who'd never been on a broom before.

"Give him a break," Rance did what no man usually dared; he stepped between Rance and Oliver. "His girlfriends missing. He's having a rough spell."

"I don't give a damn about his rough spells or emotional problems. All I care about is winning. Besides, I warned him not to screw around with Muggles."

"I wasn't screwing around with Izzy," Oliver corrected him. "I was...I am in love with her. It's a completely different thing." By insulting Izzy again, Mr. Doyle had crossed the line. Oliver stood up from the bench, ready to fight for Izzy this time. After seeing the consequences of his silence, he knew not to make that mistake again. 

"Just because you think you're in love with that Muggle trash, doesn't mean she loves you back and it doesn't give you the right to screw up on the pitch. You're a professional! Quidditch comes first, Oliver. I expect to see you all at practice at 4 AM tomorrow. We can't afford to lose another match, and yes that's directed at you Oliver." Rance held Oliver back from going after the manager and beating him. A door slammed and Brenten Doyle left the locker room.

"Oliver, I hate to rub salt on a wound, but you really screwed up today," the ever inconsiderate Farren added. In Farren's life, Quidditch was number one. Oliver Wood wasn't an actual friend, he was a fellow employee, and he didn't actually care about his life.

"You think I don't bloody know that?" Oliver's anger burned and he punched a locker. Throwing down his towel Oliver stormed to the shower, "I bloody screwed up everything didn't I?"

Farren started to open his mouth but Rance stopped him, "He's beating himself up enough. There's no reason to add to it."

-OoOoO-

By the time Oliver finished showering the lower room had vacated except for Rance. "I know I screwed up, Rance, you don't need to tell me too." Oliver's voice ached of desperation.

"Oliver, I'm not here to harass you. I wanted to ask if you'd heard from Izzy."

"I haven't heard a word. I called Sandy from the coffee shop and she hasn't seen her. Seems my girlfriend has dropped off the face of the planet." Everything he knew to try, he'd tried. As a last resort he'd roamed around New York for a couple of hours just hoping to see her.

Rance could see the pain in Oliver's eyes. Even more than he hated to lose a match, Rance hated to see a man he respected hurting so much. From the day they met he'd seen Izzy and Oliver's relationship bloom like a rose. He couldn't begin to understand why Izzy would leave. "Are you okay, Oliver?"

"No I'm not. I'm worried. She was drunk and pissed off. Then suddenly she disappears. There are so many scenarios running through my head. They're scary Rance." They didn't live in a safe world. So much could go wrong, all the way from Voldemort to perverts, and Oliver was helpless to prevent it.

"Yeah I can't even imagine how scary that is. This is such a weird situation. I'll be honest, I never imagined Izzy leaving you."

"Neither did I," Oliver said honestly. In his mind, he'd begun to plan their future together.

"You'll be okay. You're a strong kid, you've gotten through rough times before," Rance hugged Oliver comforting him the only way he knew how.

"Yeah, I'll be okay. But I've got to get my head in the game again. We can't lose this tournament. Now after we've come so far." Once again Oliver fell back on his first love, Quidditch. He'd need to drink, breathe and eat Quidditch.

"That's the spirit lad, distract yourself with Quidditch. It's a medicine like no other."

-OoOoO-

The champagne was flowing in the locker room but Oliver wasn't celebrating. They'd won the match, but barely. He knew after the obligatory merriment Brenten was going to rip into him. Izzy had disappeared three weeks before, and life hadn't gotten any easier. Almost every day he would pick up the phone to call her, forgetting that her number was disconnected. Anxiety kept him awake and nightmares plagued his sleep. The team's mediwizard had prescribed a nightly sleeping potion so Oliver could rest up for the tournament. Through the potion he gained peaceful nights, but nothing could give him peace during his waking hours.

"We won, Oliver; we're still in the tournament! Cheer up," Farren who had hassled him after the last match handed him a glass of wine.

"Woohoo," Oliver sarcastically responded then threw the wine in his mouth.

"Even I think your attitude could loosen a little, Oliver," Rance handed him another glass of wine. "If it takes alcohol to do that, then so be it. I just want to see you living again, instead of mourning."

"Look I'm smiling," Oliver forced a smile then drank the wine.

"Take an acting class, kid. I'm not convinced," Rance rolled his eyes and sipped his wine.

"Damn!" Oliver cracked a cynical joke. "I tried."

"Two more games and we might be the champions. Isn't that crazy, Oliver?" Rance changed the subject trying anything to lighten Oliver's gloom and doom attitude.

"Absolutely insane."

"It's what every little wizard dreams of," Rance reminisced, recalling his first time on a broom at the tender age of three.

"It's what I've always wanted. I just hope I can get my act together. It would be crazy to come this far and then ruin it." For a split second Oliver wrenched his mind away from Izzy, trying to reconnect to his childhood dreams.

"You won't, Oliver. You're a crazily talented kid. You were made for this," Rance patted him on the back and grabbed another glass of wine. "Are you dreading the lecture from Mr. Bitter after the party?" Everyone on the team knew the celebration was for show. Mr. Doyle wasn't the type to "party."

"Most definitely. It's not going to be pretty."

"Is anything to do with Mr. Doyle pretty?" Rance laughed. "My opinion: live it up, get nice and drunk and the whole lecture will go a lot easier."

"Good idea, hand me another glass. Wine is weak compared to firewhiskey."

-OoOoO-

"Do you guys really call that winning?" Sure enough after the party Brenten Doyle sat the team down for a "post-match pep talk".

"According to the scoreboard we won." Farren never knew when to keep his mouth shut. Being drunk just lowered his sense of tact.

"The scoreboard is bullshit. You guys played like schoolboys. Especially you, Oliver; if it hasn't been for the seeker finding the snitch quickly we would've lost. How many easy shots did you let in?"

"Too many to count," Oliver hiccupped.

"Next match something changes or else, boys." After Mr. Doyle quit speaking the team members, led by Farren, slowly started stumbling out of the locker room. "Oliver I want to talk privately with you sometime," Brenten Doyle pulled Oliver aside. He lowered his voice, and the tone was grave, "It's important."

"Not now Mr. Doyle. I'm drunk."

"Two weeks from now, my mansion," Brenten didn't even ask Oliver if that scheduling was okay. Mr. Doyle knew he had executive power, so he called the shot. "That way it's before the next match. Maybe I'll be able to talk your talent back in."  
  
**Author's Note:** For the love of Oliver respond!


	11. Returnings

**Authors Note: I suck as a person. The story has been finished since summer and I haven't updated because my I lost my beta reader. Well technically I didn't lose her perse, she just kinda couldn't think of any suggestions for thi chatper. I wanted suggestions, so I just kinda put it on hold and forgot. So I apologize, I know I've lost all my readers. If anyone is an uber-good beta reader be sure to tell me via review.**

* * *

**Chapter 11 Returnings**

"Hey grandma." The sunlight silhouetted Oliver's figure in the doorway. A white haired woman sat knitting in the kitchen. She paused at the sound of the creaking door opening. Looking up her eyes widened, shocked to see her long departed grandson.

"Oliver dear! We haven't seen you aren't here in ages," The woman threw her knitting needles on the hardwood floor and quickly stood up. Moving as fast as an elderly witch could move, she rushed to the door and kissed Oliver on the cheek.

"I just felt like coming home Granny. There still a room for me here?" Oliver didn't want to say it, but his apartment was rather lonely. Actually, his life was rather lonely. Staying alone only added to his misery. In order to move on (if that were even possible) he'd have to start over. So in he walked to the home he'd left years ago hoping somehow to turn back the tides of time.

"There's always a room for you here honey," her unyielding hug almost cut off his breathing. "The only question if why are you home? Did you have a fight with your lady friend?"

Oliver couldn't help but release a slight laugh at hearing Izzy called his "lady friend". "My 'lady friend'," he responded curiously because he'd never told his grandma, "where'd you hear about her?"

"Daily Prophet Oliver! Don't you read the paper?" His grandmother grabbed a newspaper with a picture from the awards on the cover.

"Actually I never read the paper," Oliver picked up the newspaper and laughed at his and Izzy's moving picture on the cover. The caption read: _Rookie of the Year award winner Oliver Wood and his mysterious Muggle date Isabella (no last name) enjoy a magical evening at the Quidditch Awards._ "Have we been in the paper much?"

"Only a couple of times. I have the other articles upstairs if you want to see them," Oliver's grandma headed for the stairway in excitement. With her grandson home for the first time in years she would try to do anything she could to make him happy.

"No that's okay. I just can't believe I haven't seen these yet. Wow we're practically a celebrity couple," Oliver laughed at his own fame. He found it hard to believe that people wanted to read about his personal life.

"You are a celebrity Oliver. You never seemed to realize that. I've been following your life in the paper ever since you graduated and signed with Puddlemere." His grandmother smiled, "I'm glad it hasn't gotten to your head."

"I'm sorry Grandma," Oliver sighed. "I guess you're suppose to hear these things from me aren't you?" Unintentionally his grandmother brought a wave of guilt over Oliver.

Sensing his reaction, she immediately smiled brightly at him. "It doesn't matter. You're here now," she tried to straighten his ruffled hair.

"Thanks grandma. I'm kind of tired I think I'll just go to bed early," Oliver grabbed his duffle bag and started up the stairs.

"Bed? Already? It's only 8:00," his grandmother turned around quickly with concern.

"It's been a long couple of weeks grandma. I just need some peace," he turned and quickly went up the stairs to avoid any further questioning. His grandmother was bewildered at his behavior; something had to be wrong.

Oliver walked up the long cobblestone path to the Doyle manor house. He had tried to fly, but strangely enough the Quidditch manager had an anti-flying ward around his mansion. It was hard to believe the huge mansion before him was inhabited by one man. _One bitter lonely man_, Oliver added in his mind. The mansion was story upon story and seemed to sprawl on forever. The huge mahogany double doors had serpent insignia's winding around the edges. Oliver couldn't ignore the dual nature of the sign; it stood for both slytherin and the evil prejudice the wizard world was constantly at odd with. The serpent brought memories of Voldemort, his father, and Brenten's cruel words about Izzy in the locker room. With careful deliberation Oliver picked up the snakehead knocker and slowly hit the door three times.

A wiry house elf came to the door. "Evening Mr. Wood. Come in, come in," the house elf anxiously ushered Oliver across the marble floor. Knowing the cold and modestly dressing Doyle, Oliver was shocked by the opulent décor of his house. High, richly painted ceilings rose high above and grandiose golden chandeliers hung down casting a warm glow across the foyer. As beautiful as the decorations were, the house felt cold and empty. Oliver took a seat in a Slytherin green armchair. No fire burned in the fireplace, no pictures sat on the mantle, and there was no sign of habitation in the mansion.

"Oliver would you like a drink?" Mr. Doyle entered from a back hallway.

"No thank you," Oliver responded nervously. He knew better than to think he'd been asked over for a social call. Kindness was not an act in Mr. Doyle's repertoire.

"Good answer," he sat down the bottle.

"Why am I here?"

"Because you're having a problem and I have every intention of winning this tournament," Brenten Doyle poured himself a glass of wine.

"Then fix it," Oliver voice rose with pain, "For goodness sake I invite you to fix it if you can. I want to win this just as much as you do." Oliver couldn't stand this man standing over him trying to talk to him like a naughty child. Fixing his problem wasn't as easy as it sounded.

"I know what the problem is. It's that Izzy girl isn't it?" Mr. Doyle sipped his wine and looked knowingly at Oliver.

"Izzy is none of your business. You never liked her because she was a Muggle." Mr. Doyle's opinion on Izzy was what started everything, Oliver didn't know if he could hear it again.

"I didn't dislike her. I just know what's worth my boys' time. And frankly she wasn't. Whether you understand it or not, I know more about her than you'll ever understand. I know things she never told you," Mr. Doyle spoke cryptically.

"What did you do investigate her or something?" There wasn't a logical reason Oliver could think of that Mr. Doyle would know anything about Izzy.

"Didn't need too. Would you win again for her sake?" The tone of the question was imperative.

"What?" Oliver asked exasperated. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"It has everything to do with everything," Mr. Doyle's face turned as hard as stone and morphed into a completely unreadable expression. "Put your wand on the mantle and follow me."

"Why would I do that? My father taught me to never put my wand down." Auror's always stayed on their guard, and Oliver's father had taught him the value of protecting oneself. The situation with Mr. Doyle reeked of suspicious activity and it was exactly the type situation his father had always warned him against. At this point putting his wand down sounded like a stupid idea.

"Do you really think I'd endanger my keeper during the tournament. Just put the wand on the mantle and follow me." From the inside pocket of his robe, Oliver pulled the wand and sat it carefully on the fireplace. "I'm putting a disorienting spell on you so you can't navigate my house by yourself. Disortenato." A strange feeling rushed over Oliver and he wasn't quite sure of his surroundings anymore. Mr. Doyle grabbed his arm roughly and carelessly pulled him down a hallway. The hallway seemed to twist and turn in unnatural and unbelievable ways. They went up, down, sideways, until finally they came to an ugly metal door. Brenten removed the spell. Suddenly it felt like a dizzy spell had ended and Oliver looked around at a straight empty hallway. Everything seemed normal again. Brenten muttered a spell Oliver had never heard before and the door swung open. They stood in a long corridor that looked like a prison. Barred jail cells lined the walls. Oliver stayed a few steps behind Brenten, the jail-like environment made him wish he hadn't left his wand behind. Suddenly he felt unsure of his safety. The intimidating manager walked to the last cell and unlocked it. At first Oliver was reluctant to follow, then he noticed a head of white blonde hair between the bars.  
"IZZY!" his heart practically leapt out of his throat. She was sitting in rusted chains, curled up on the floor not looking up. Instead of running to her he turned to Mr. Doyle, "You did this to her!" His anger was sweltering, seeing Izzy in chains brought out the worst in Oliver. He was ready to hit Brenten Doyle, punch him and kick for what he'd done. Letting his anger overcome his rationale he grabbed his manager by the shirt collar and shoved him against the concrete wall "Why did you do this to her?"

Suddenly Izzy recognized Oliver's voice and slowly raised her head. Seeing Oliver's rage Izzy shook her head sadly. "Don't Oliver," she said softly. "He's not worth your anger."

Remembering Izzy he let go of Brenten and ran to the girl on the floor and wrapped his arms around her. Seeing her, holding her, was the only remedy for Oliver's heartbreak. Tear stung in his eyes, and Oliver didn't feel too manly to cry. "Oh my God Izzy. I never thought I'd see you again." All he wanted to do was hold her. "Give me the key," Oliver yelled across the room and Brenten threw it at his head.

"I'll leave you two alone," he left the room and shut the cell behind him.

Hands shaking Oliver undid the chains around Izzy's wrists and ankles and looked at the girl he'd grown to love. She was thin and frail, her piercings were gone and her hair was disheveled. Tears had washed off her makeup but her eyes still stood out from her pale skin. "I've missed you so much," Oliver found himself sobbing. "I'm a wreck without you."

"This is exactly the type of thing I was scared of Oliver," Izzy pulled away from his embrace and stood up to stretch her aching legs. "You're the one who brought me into this world I hate."

"You're mad at me for what that monster did. I'm sorry Izzy, I didn't know this would happen. I still don't even know why this happened."

Izzy shook her head and looked up at Oliver. "He did this because I know his secret." She didn't quite have the words to tell Oliver the monster who had kidnapped her was her father.

"What secret could possibly constitute treatment like this," Oliver searched her eyes. "And how do you know his secret?"

Grabbing Oliver's hand Izzy sat down on the little cement bench in the cell. She was about to drop the biggest bombshell of her life. "Oliver," she bit her lip and held onto his hand for strength. Looking at the opposite wall, tears well in her eyes as she finished the sentence, "damn it, he's my father." Oliver stared blankly back at Izzy. He felt flabbergasted and blown away by the revelation. It wasn't what he expected. "My name is Isabella Doyle. My mother was a Muggle, my father was a death eater. It's not that hard to figure out why I had to disappear." For a moment Oliver took in the implications of everything she'd said. Voldemort had risen again, if Mr. Doyle had been a death eater odds were he remained a death eater. The snake emblem on the door took an even more sinister meaning.

"Izzy, I can't believe this," he hugged her again. "I'm surprised he didn't kill you. Thankfully surprised," Oliver replied and then without thinking blurted out, "Why didn't he kill you?"

"He said I had my mother's face and he could never kill her."

"Your mother was the most beautiful woman I never knew," Mr. Doyle didn't even announce his re-entrance. The fondness in his voice startled Oliver, it was as though he'd actually loved Izzy's mom.

"And you were the most vile man she ever got involved with," Izzy spat back.

"Probably true," the truth didn't faze him. "Oliver I bet you're still curious as to why I brought you here."

"If he's not I am," Izzy stood up and walked over towards her father. "I'm curious about a damn lot. If you fuckin' plan to keep me here forever then why couldn't he just get on with his life?"

"Because he was doing a damn bad job getting over you!" Mr. Doyle had never said anything truer.

Oliver stood up and walked over to stand by Izzy taking her by the hand. "And this is suppose to help me get on with life." If he never saw Izzy again he knew he'd always picture her, cold and alone in chains in this horrible man's basement.

"This isn't about you getting on with life anymore. This is about winning. Hell it's always been about winning." To the end Mr. Doyle was self-serving.

"How the hell is torturing your keeper going to help you win?" Hours alone how left her time to contemplate, think up insults and get pissed off. Finally after a month of stewing, she was able to discharge her anger.

"Because I'm a businessman little girl. I'm offering a bargain to Oliver. If he wins the next match, you stay safe and maybe even get treated a little better." He turned to address Oliver, "If you win the next match you can come back and see my daughter again."

"And if we don't win?" Oliver asked cautiously. If winning kept Izzy alive, Oliver didn't want to think about what losing meant.

"We will win so it doesn't matter. I'll give you a few more minutes to have parting romantic moments," the loneliness was evident in Mr. Doyle's voice.

Tears had welled up in Izzy's eyes and she looked up at Oliver, "I want so much to hate you at this moment but I don't," she was shaking. "I can't live in this world but this past month without you has been the worst month of my life."

"I have a feeling there are plenty of reasons besides my absence for that," Oliver laughed despite his tears.

"You're right. But the fact that I love you doesn't help," she gently kissed him. "I hate your world but not you; never you."

"Izzy I'll save you somehow. Everything will be like it used to be," Oliver pushed her dirty hair behind her ears and made a solemn vow "I'll fix it. I promise."

"You're so naïve, it's cute but unrealistic. Everything will never be like it was. You can never hit rewind on life." One of the terrible realities about living was that you could never go backwards; life will remain stuck in forward motion forever.

"Rewind?" Oliver looked puzzled.

"It's a movie term. It means you can't go backwards," Izzy wiped a tear from her eye. "You can never go backwards." Silently in her mind she added, as_ much as you may wish you could_. There were twenty-million time Izzy would've went backwards if she could've. Oliver was just one such instance, so was her mother's death.

"What if I want to," water was filling his deep brown eyes.

"You can't Oliver. Life doesn't work that way," Izzy wiped a tear from his cheek.

"I love you Izzy. I'll figure something out. I promise you that," Oliver kissed her forehead.

"Oliver do me a favor; just win," Izzy playfully wrapped her arms around him. "I'd like to see you again next week. A girl can get rather lonely in a dungeon all by herself." She knew he had to leave on a positive note, for his sanity. As much as she denied it to herself, she also knew she wanted him to come back.

Oliver's boyish grin spread across his face and he leaned in for one last kiss. "You're amazing." By this time Brenten Doyle was waiting at the door to let Oliver out. "If you put the chains on her again and I'll kill you with my bare hands" Oliver added threateningly.

As Mr. Doyle shut the cell door Izzy remembered something that Oliver had to know. She called after him and informed him, "I was on my way back."

"What?" Oliver turned around looking at Izzy through the bars.

"That night. I was coming back," Izzy looked honestly at Oliver. Maybe they could never go back, but he had to know what had happened that night. A light came on in his eyes; she had said exactly what he needed to hear. Izzy sat alone on the cold concrete floor and listened intently as Oliver's footsteps got further and further away.

**Authors Note: Oh the melodrama. If I get reviews I'll probably post the next chapter tomorrow. Otherwise I'll forget. It isn't bribery, it's my being forgetful.**


	12. The Big Match

**Authors Note: So I decided not to wait to post this chapter. Honestly I'm not sure this chapter is worth the wait. It's nice and necessary, but not as fun as some of the other ones. If you find mistakes just tell me. I'm in want of a proper Beta reader so I know that they are there. I want to be honest with anyone who reads this and say that I really appreciate you. Please just leave a review to say you've been here. You have no idea what your time means to me.**

**Chapter 12 The Big match**

"You look nervous kid." There was an hour till the match and Oliver's trembling hand could barely hold a cup. Lately Rance had gotten in the habit of keeping a watchful eye on Oliver. "What's up kid?"

"I can't say Rance," Oliver rolled his eyes. "Damn it I wish I could say." The secret weighed on Oliver. If he could tell just one person then maybe his load would feel lighter. But as it was, Izzy's fate rested on Oliver's shoulder.

"You can tell me anything Oliver. You know I'll listen."

"It's not that I don't trust you. It's that I can't," Oliver paused and turned the direction of the conversation, "Out of curiosity, do you know if there's a potion to prevent the disorienting charm?"

"No clue. I'd owl Percy and ask him."

Oliver smiled, "That's the best idea you've ever had. I don't even need to owl Percy. He's probably already out in the stands. He's overly prompt like that."

Rushing out of the locker room Oliver ignored the fans that stopped him to ask for his autograph. Instead he ran up the stands to the seat he'd bought for Percy as a birthday gift. "Percy I need you to do me a favor really quick."

"Sure Oliver."

"Is there a potion you can take to prevent the disorienting charm from working?" Oliver asked hoping and praying Percy knew.

"Yeah actually there is. You can buy it at any good apothecary. Only takes about 20 minutes to make. It's made with salamander tails, unicorn…."

"I don't care how it's made Percy. Can you get it for me now?" Oliver asked.

"And miss the match? Oliver what's going on? Why do you need that particular potion?" Percy was full of questions.

"I can't tell you Percy. Will you get the potion or not? It's really important Percy," Oliver was pleading with him. If he could get that potion, there might be a way to rescue Izzy from the hellhole Mr. Doyle was keeping her in.

Percy had many questions, but he felt sure that Oliver wouldn't give any answers. Oliver was by nature (except where Quidditch was involved) calm, but something was distressing him. Without even knowing what the dilemma was, Percy could sense its urgency. "If it matters that much Oliver of course I'll help."

**OoOoO**

The sun blazed overhead and tension thickened the air. Oliver almost couldn't breathe. Walking onto the pitch was like walking into the Roman Coliseum for Oliver. Oliver ascended into the air and hovered by the goals, waiting anxiously for the quaffle to be released. The match against the Wasps would be hard. They were an amazing team. If they weren't the enemy, Oliver would admire their skill. They had almost beat Puddlemere in the regular season when Oliver was at the top of his game. Fortunately then, a quick save by the seeker saved Puddlemere the embarrassment of losing. The quaffle flew up and that match was on. Taking a deep breath Oliver set his mind on watching the quaffles. Letting no stray though escape, he pushed out all his fears, the game was the only thing that mattered. Oliver shot fleeting glances to the seeker, who seemed to still be searching for the first glimpse of the snitch. Oliver's head jerked, the other team had the quaffle. A red blur flew at the right hoop but was this time Oliver's reflexes were quicker. In fact, Oliver blocked every shot. They were already up 100 points when the seekers dived towards the ground. Oliver's heart rate increased to the point it where it hurt. Suddenly everything stopped, Farren held his hand high in the air. In his tight grasp fluttered a little golden ball. Puddlemere had won, they were going to the tournament and Oliver was going to see Izzy. "WOO," Oliver almost fell off his broom as let go with both hands in celebration. Rance looked up at the joyful Oliver with curiosity. He had no clue what brought about the change, but Oliver's joy made him grin. It'd been a long time since he'd seen that man smile.

**OoOoO**

There was a celebration in the locker room after the match but Oliver showered and left as quickly as possible. "Where you going?" Rance asked Oliver as he quickly bolted out the door. Lately Oliver didn't have a life outside of Quidditch so Rance couldn't help but be curious as to where he was in such a hurry to go.

"Can't say!" Oliver said happily and hugged Rance. Oliver's joy was practically bursting out of him.

"I haven't seen you this happy since…." Rance stopped mid-sentence. With Oliver actually happy, he didn't want to bring up a sore subject.

"Before Izzy left?" for a change the phrase didn't seem to faze Oliver. "I know man. It's been crazy. I have to go now, I'll tell you more later." Oliver practically skipped out the door.

"Congrats Oliver," Percy waited right outside the door.

"PERCE!" Oliver said gleefully. Oliver's excitement about seeing Izzy had caused him to forget all about Percy and the potion. Seeing his plan starting to come together only made Oliver happier.

"I got your potion," Percy smiled. "And managed to catch the game."

"Is there anything I need to know about the potion?" Oliver slowly put together the pieces of his plan.

"Take it an hour before the charm is put on you and just pretend the spell is on you. No wizard would ever know the difference." Percy's know-it-all nature for once proved helpful. "Why do you need the potion Oliver?"

"I wish I could say," Oliver sighed. "Things are really complicated though." Thinking a moment Oliver added, "I'll need your help later on though."

"You do realize I have no clue what you're talking about."

"Don't worry about it Percy. It's going to be a great evening. But I better head off and take this potion. See you later Perce," Oliver turned to walk away then remembered his manners, "Oh, and thanks. You're a lifesaver."

"No problem. Just keep winning. I think my brothers are betting on your matches and they probably can't afford to lose."

**OoOoO**

The lavender liquid bubbled when Oliver opened the flask. In one gulp he swallowed the potion. It left the strange aftertaste of oranges and flowers in his mouth. It felt like a paste in his throat instead of the thin liquid it appeared as in the bottle. The party in the locker room would last awhile longer. Walking through the shopping quarter of the village Oliver spotted, "Viewford Florist." Opening the door Oliver was overwhelmed by the sweet smell of flowers. "Hello," he asked around looking around the daffodils trying to find the cashier.

A thin short man walked appeared from behind the irises. His hair was awry, like an un-pruned bonsai tree. "Ohhh….sir, can I help you?" his voice was childlike and distant.

"Yes, can I buy some flowers?" As long as he had an hour to kill, he might as well buy some presents for Izzy.

"That's what we're here for," the man laughed. "What would you like, we have roses, carnations, lilies, irises…"

"Um…" Oliver scratched his head. Oliver knew nothing about flowers. His knowledge extended to the point that they grew and girls supposedly liked them.

"What kind of occasion is this for?" the man tried to direct Oliver. Oliver just looked blankly at the man waiting for options. "Funeral, birthday, for your mom, romantic…" he listed the possible reasons.

"Romantic! That's the reasons. I'm seeing my girlfriend tonight," Oliver smiled. "Do you have good flowers for that?"

"Most of our flowers are for that. What's the budget?" The seemed amused by Oliver's clueless nature. Obviously he had never bought flowers before.

"Money doesn't matter. Can I pick them up in about half an hour? I have some more things to buy."

"Sure thing," the man gave Oliver a wink. He seemed both shocked and jovial that Oliver was so free with his money. Oliver heard him squeal to himself as he entered the backroom. Apparently business had been slow lately.

Strolling along the moonlit street Oliver headed into a more practical shop. Returning in his mind to the cell, he walked through the door again in his mind and saw Izzy curled up on the floor. He couldn't help but remember that she didn't even have a blanket. Looking through the home décor store, Oliver found a soft purple fleece blanket. It seemed strange to be buying Izzy presents again after not seeing her for so long. It seemed odd to walk by a Ministry of Magic office and not report the kidnapping. Brenten Doyle had made it clear that Izzy's life would be "terminated" if the ministry got word of her existence; not even just her kidnapping, her entire existence. He'd also drawn a pretty clear picture of the ears he had within the ministry. The only way to protect Izzy was to keep this secret. _Only for a while, _Oliver reminded himself. He thought of the potion already starting to work within his stomach. Stopping in a grocery store, Oliver bought a bottle of wine for the evening. No matter where they were or why they were there, Oliver wanted his evening to be romantic.

**Authors Note: I know this chapter is not my best. I think just since summer I've grown a lot as a writer. But I still like this fic and hope you do too.Thanks for reading! Next Chapter _A Strange Date_. More Doyle, more Oliver and Izzy and more fun.Leave reviews and encouragement. All writers need them.**


	13. A Strange Date

**_Author's Note: After putting off posting this. I think I'm going to finish it quickly. I really do hope you enjoy this fanfiction. I actually came up with the premise and wrote most of it at least a year (maybe more) ago. There are 2 more chapters left I think. BUT, if you actually enjoy it. I'm working really hard on finishing a sequel. It should be done sometime in May._**

**Chapter 13 A strange date**

Walking up to the Doyle manor intimidated Oliver just as much the second time as it did the first. He noticed the snake motif from the door repeated on all the windowsills. Everything about Brenten Doyle had come together, the bitterness in his eyes, his cold calculating personality, and the mystery about his past. In a sense it was a sad story, but Oliver felt no pity for the bastard. Mr. Doyle's ruined life was completely his own fault. The house elf answered the door again and shot an odd look at Oliver's flowers and wine. While waiting for Mr. Doyle, Oliver had to repress the urge to explore the house. Somewhere in the depths of the house waited Izzy. Ancient and sprawling, the house held many secrets. In many ways it held the secrets to Izzy's past too. Had Mr. Doyle ever kept a journal? Did he have pictures of Izzy's mothers, or pictures from Izzy's childhood? Oliver knew Izzy's father had left her family, but not how early. Izzy herself might not know.

"Flowers Oliver?" Mr. Doyle's snobbish nose turned up. "How very quaint."

"I don't care what you think of them. They aren't for you."

"Oh believe me, I'm relieved Oliver," Mr. Doyle no longer feigned friendliness with his star keeper. On the pitch they were on the same team, off the pitch Mr. Doyle was Oliver's mortal enemy.

"Mr. Doyle I used to be scared of you," Oliver got in his face. "But right now you need me on the pitch so lets just get to business. I don't have the patience for your crap." If only Oliver had courage like that six weeks ago when Mr. Doyle had come to him in the locker room about "messing around with Muggles."

"You just don't have the intelligence to know when to be afraid. Set your wand on the mantle again." Oliver went and sat his wand down without fear. "Disortenato," Mr. Doyle muttered the spell but all Oliver felt was a gentle breeze of magic rushing over his body. For a split second Oliver feared that Mr. Doyle knew, but then he grabbed Oliver's arm and started leading him to the dungeon. Oliver pretended to trip over his own feet a few times while noting in his mind the direction they were taking. First he had been led through the great entrance hall to a small red door, which by the looks of it, led through a residential corridor. It was nicely decorated and almost homey, instead of impersonal and formal. Pictures of long-dead family members hung upon the walls staring curiously at Mr. Doyle and Oliver. Some even seemed to shake their heads as if disappointed at Mr. Doyle. From the hallway they entered a small room with an elegant bed and nightstand. Everything looked dusty, as though the room hadn't been inhabited and years. In the corner near a window Mr. Doyle opened a wardrobe, only it was empty. The backboard of the wardrobe opened to a staircase. By the dark grey of the walls, and the dimly lit passage Oliver knew they were descending to the dungeon. Spiders scuttled across the floor, this corridor seemed impoverished compared to the opulence of the rest of the house. Suddenly they stood before a familiar ugly metal door and Mr. Doyle "removed" the spell. Oliver blinked wildly and acted like everything was straight for the first time. Before they even reached the cell Oliver could hear Izzy pacing back and forth impatiently. He couldn't imagine how she managed to keep her mind busy during the long hours trapped by her self.

"What the hell? Is this a date?" Izzy looked curiously upon Oliver's gifts and flowers. "You're bloody crazy."

"Just trying to be nice," Oliver shrugged and walked into the small concrete room.

"You're such a little boy," quickly Izzy changed tones. "You got me a blanket…and wine?"

"I thought about getting coffee but I figured it'd be cold by the time you got it," Oliver actually had stopped in a Starbucks but the menu read like gibberish to him.

"Can you two at least wait until I leave." Mr. Doyle slammed the metal door to the cell and stormed out of the dungeon. Apparently the romance was too much for him to handle.

"I can't believe you're acting like this is a date Oliver. I hate to be the party pooper, but what kind of relationship is this."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean there's no where for us to go from here," Izzy laid out the blanket and sat down motioning for Oliver to join her. "You have a real life Oliver. I'm trapped here, neither living nor dying." For a high-spirited person like Izzy a half-life being trapped in a dungeon was a fate worse than death.

"Trust me Izzy when I say I'm getting you out of here," Oliver looked into her violet eyes. More than anything else he wanted to make everything right. "Trust me."

"But then what Oliver? Do we go back to living in the world of magic where I don't feel safe?"

"I don't know," he said desperately. "But we'll do whatever it takes. For now can we just enjoy our time together? I got your favorite wine."

"I'll let it pass for now, but don't think this fight is over. Nothing changes even if you rescue me like I'm a damsel in distress. Understand?" Izzy felt adamant that she would never live in a world where magic affected her daily life. It didn't seem like a fair world to her. Some people received the gift of magic, which put them in a higher class than all the mere mortals of the world. She didn't want her potentially Muggle children exposed to the danger of wizards.

"I understand completely. Nothing is different. We're just putting it aside for the moment," Oliver uncorked the wine and took a sip.

"I still can't believe you got me wine and flowers," Izzy broke the awkwardness.

"I thought you'd like it," he leaned in and gently kissed Izzy.

"It's cheesy, but for you, it works," Izzy smiled. She thought to herself, _For you a lot of things work that normally don't…_

**Thanks for reading. Remember to leave a review. Love you all!**


	14. Forming the Plan

**_Authors Note: We're almost done! I can hardly believe it myself. Except, with, me you're never done--this fic definately has a sequel that is almost completely written. Please respond, it's lovely encouragement within the writing world._**

**Chapter 14 Forming the Plan**

Oliver had flown all the way to Hogwarts. He didn't know where else to go. For some odd reason the only person he could think of to help was Harry Potter. When they'd been in school together it seemed annually Harry fought evil and won. He had a good recorded against the bad guys and that was exactly what Oliver needed. Walking up the familiar staircase to Gryffindor tower Oliver couldn't help but hope that he didn't run into any students who would ask for autographs or worse, ask too many questions. Outside of Gryffindor tower Oliver ran into Neville who nervously gave him the password. Finding his way to Harry's room Oliver opened the familiar door. It felt like going home. "Harry Potter. It's been awhile hasn't it?"

Harry felt like he was going crazy. Turning around he saw that he found his sanity was still in tact. He hadn't been hearing things. "Oliver Wood!" he jumped up and hugged his old Quidditch captain. "What's a famous Quidditch player like you doing here?"

"You know all those big adventures you tend to find?"

"Yeah," Harry didn't see what his "adventures" against Lord Voldemort had to do with Quidditch, and the sport (unless Oliver had changed considerably) was his entire life.

"You up for another one?" Oliver asked carefully. "For an old friend?"

"It won't get me killed will it?"

"It shouldn't. Should be quite simple as long as we're not stupid. I could probably do it myself, except I'm not good at that type thing." As simple as breaking into Mr. Doyle's house sounded, it was too important to take any chance.

"I'm not sure how 'good' I am at it. I just have good luck," Harry tried to explain away his successes.

"Well then I need your luck Harry," Oliver looked intensely at Harry. "Please."

"Of course I'll help you," Harry spoke with great respect for his old keeper, the man who had taught him how to play Quidditch. "I'll just have to talk to Hermione and Ron."

"Of course they'll have to help. Do you think Ron would mind if I asked his brothers?"

"Which brothers?" Harry wondered if Oliver would actually ask Percy who for the longest time had been Oliver's best friend for years. Harry wasn't sure Ron had forgiven Percy for his betrayal during their fifth year.

"The twins and Percy."

"Would Percy risk it?" Harry couldn't imagine Percy helping in any adventure that the ministry hadn't approved.

"For this he would," Oliver really believed what he was saying. "For me he would Harry." During Percy's exile from the Weasley clan, Percy and Oliver's friendship had continued. They'd had many long talks, many disagreements, but in the end they were closer. Percy was almost like a brother to Oliver.

"Tell me everything Oliver and I'll try to think of a plan. Well actually Hermione will think of a plan."

"So your telling me your girlfriend Izzy is actually Isabella Doyle and is being held prisoner in your Quidditch managers personal dungeon and he just happens to be her father," Percy was in disbelief. The story Oliver was telling was absurd. "Oliver this sounds like a story from that gossip-rag the Quibbler."

"I know it sounds absurd! But it's completely true. Why else would my moods be fluctuating like crazy and why else would I need that potion?" Oliver jumped to defend himself.

"Oliver I didn't say I didn't believe you. I just said it's an unbelievable story. I've come to realize that's usually a sure sign of truth. I know how much Izzy means do you. I don't know what I would do if something happened to Penelope."

"Since when have me and Izzy been on the same level as you and Penny?" Penny and Percy had been inseparable since Hogwarts. Recently Percy had went down on one knee and proposed to Penny. The happy couple was planning for a spring wedding. For Percy, it was the most important relationship in his life. Izzy and Oliver had been together less than a year, and hadn't even discussed marriage. As flattered as Oliver felt, he wasn't sure it was a fair comparison.

"Since you fell in love with her Oliver," Percy patted him on the back. "Since for once in your life something became more important than Quidditch."


	15. The Grand Finale

_**Author's Note:** Though technically the end of this story, there is still more to the story. I'm about halfway (okay maybe not that far) through a sequel. I really hope people will stick with me through that. Thanks for reading, I love you all! Be sure to leave a quick hello in review form!_

**Chapter 15: The grand finale**

The eclectic group of friends gathered in Hogsmeade that evening. Harry, Hermione and Ron snuck through Honeydukes under an invisibility cloak whereas the others just quietly convened at the pub. It was a dark and starless night. The sky was deep purple velvet, perfect for cloaking their behavior. Oliver sat in the pub hitting his fingers against the table trying to calm his jumpy nerves. The first to arrive was the always-punctual Percy followed shortly by the twins who kept cracking jokes at the expensive of their more conservative brother. Next they heard a distinct shuffling of feet and despite the fact they couldn't see them they knew the trio had arrived. Harry, Ron and Hermione emerged from beneath a silvery cloak. The three seem anxious for some space, they were growing up quickly and soon a single invisibility cloak wouldn't be enough.

"What is this, a Weasley family reunion?" Ron rolled his eyes and stretched his cramped legs.

"Shut up," Hermione hit him in the shoulder gently. "So you're absolutely positive Mr. Doyle is out of town?" Hermione, being a natural planner, got straight down to business.

"Positive. He left for a Quidditch meeting that he must attend," Oliver reassured the most careful participant. Even though she'd grown more daring over the years, she held a great reverence for rules, schedules and organizations deep inside her heart and that was unlikely to ever change.

"Then what's keeping us?" Fred asked.

George then added, "Let's get this adventure started."

"You know it's not that simple," Hermione's voice suddenly turned into prefect mode. "What were doing is dangerous and risky. It's not just some huge practical joke. It's something important."

"Don't get your knickers in a twist. We know how serious this is," Fred tried to put on his serious face, which only made him look goofier.

"Let's just get this over with," Hermione's patience was wearing thin. "We've already broken at least a dozen rules."

"It's okay Hermy," Despite turning pink Ron grabbed her hand. "We're prefects. We can break rules."

"Eww, none of that now," Fred jumped in while George separated their hands. "No school children love on my watch."

"Get a life you two. You're practically still school children," Ron rolled his eyes at his aggravating brothers.

"Actually they're worse," Hermione said in her uppity voice, "They're dropouts."

"Bickering isn't going to get us there any quicker," the quieter Harry jumped in. "Let's just head over to Mr. Doyle's house and work out the rest there." Oliver had sat silently through this entire exchange thinking only about Izzy. He didn't know what would happen once they'd freed her. The thought of freeing her was all that was consuming his mind. The plan was pretty simple; break into Mr. Doyle's house and free Izzy. He'd already told Percy and Hermione (the two brightest) of any roadblocks he knew, such as the unknown spell on the door. Between those two, they had the entire Hogwarts library memorized so cracking spells shouldn't be too terribly hard.

The familiar cobblestone path to Mr. Doyle's mansion seemed different on this night. He walked with fear and anticipation for the coming events. No longer was he merely a pawn in Mr. Doyle's plan. Instead he had chosen to take control of his own destiny. Fortunately for Oliver, he didn't have to do it alone. Everyone surveyed the mansion in silent awe. It was an overwhelming sight, especially tonight because they were prepared to battle the house.

"Should we knock?" Ron broke the silence.

"Alohamora," Hermione muttered and with a click the lock unlocked.

"Apparently not," she proceeded with caution towards the door. Walking in she looked around, "That was easier than it should've been."

"Lumos," Oliver took the lead from Hermione.

"Can you imagine living in a house like this," Ron quickly walked next to Hermione. Even in the darkness the luxury of the house was evident. Wherever they turned their wands (which they had all lit with lumos) gold glittered and marble gleamed. The golden chandelier hung lightless in the dark hall as the group filed in.

"This is nice!" George sat in an armchair.

"The color simply want do though," Fred quickly turned the Slytherin green chair Gryffindor maroon. Hermione scoffed at their antics and returned the chair to its original color. "What it looks much nicer the other way!" Fred exclaimed

"Except we aren't trying to get caught," Hermione pointed out.

"Do you still have to act like a prefect? We aren't on Hogwart's ground anymore," Fred always got a kick out of tormenting Hermione. "We aren't even Hogwart's students anymore!"

"Being a prefect just ruins a person," George joined the fun. "No offense little brother."

"Let's just get Izzy and quit arguing," Oliver's anxiety was rising. He led the way through a doorway and down a dark hallway. Oliver had constructed a map of the house in his head. Even though everything looked different in the dark, he could see every corridor before they reached it. No locked doors blocked their path. Instead of stopping to ask questions Oliver proceeded into the dark bedroom. From there he opened the closet door. No wards or spells blocked the secret entrance. Hermione and Ron looked at Harry and shrugged. The whole scenario was very curious.

The seven wizards proceeded down the staircase into the dark corridor. "This door was protected by some spell I'd never heard," Oliver explained to Percy and Hermione. The two brilliant wizards immediately set to work testing for spells and wards. "Revelio," Hermione muttered a spell to no avail.

"Lumsielle," Percy muttered an unfamiliar spell. This continued for about 20 minutes.

It was Ron who finally discovered a solution, "Has anyone tried the handle?" Ron asked bluntly and turned the handle meeting no resistance. Hermione's face was classic when the door opened, she felt completely dismayed and confused.

"That's really strange," Percy noted.

"No really is it?" Fred asked sarcastically.

Inside the dungeon all the lights burned brightly. Either Mr. Doyle left them on 24/7, or he was expecting company. Wands out, the group proceeded quietly down the corridor until they'd reached the end.

Izzy heard a noise behind her and turned around to see the seven wizards, "Holy shit," she jumped back five feet. "What the hell are you doing here?" she asked.

"Breaking you out. Unless you have a problem with that," George responded to immediately matching Izzy's tone.

"I'm not complaining. I just don't understand." Completely taken aback, Izzy tried to piece together the enormity of the night's events.

"Alohomora," the door opened with Hermione's word. "Come on, we should hurry out of here in case it's a trap."

"Hermione's right," Oliver grabbed Izzy by the hand. His entire body shook with nerves and excitement; they were so close but they weren't safe yet. The entire setup reeked like old tuna sandwich. Everyone knew the ease of the rescue mission felt strangely like a set-up. The only question in everyone's mind was:_ Who is he trying to set up?_ Setting up Oliver a week before the match made absolutely no sense. And there was no way that Mr. Doyle had known which eclectic bunch Oliver would gather. Deep within the minds Harry's closest friends, they wondered if Harry yet again was the target. Pushing such thoughts out of their mind they proceeded the way they had came, retracing their steps exactly to the front door. No hidden traps triggered, no alarms went off; they simply left through the front door.

"I don't understand why it was so easy," Hermione stood outside the mansion with her eyebrows furrowed.

"It's almost like he was letting her go," Harry noted.

"He did let her go," Oliver shook his head, "I'll never understand that man." Instead of leaving immediately for safety, everyone seemed content to sit on Mr. Doyle's front lawn and contemplate. Even Fred and George weren't cracking jokes, instead they were furiously whispering to one another and this time Hermione could tell they weren't plotting a practical joke.

"I don't give a damn about understanding him," Izzy sat on a bench. "He was a bastard to me and a bastard to my mother. Let's not sit here and contemplate his character and potential goodness. Let's just get the hell away from this place." She couldn't stand everyone sitting around talking about the demon that fathered her. She wanted to forget him and also forget this had ever happened. Whether he had voluntarily released her or not didn't really matter. He had voluntarily kidnapped her. Before that he had voluntarily left her as a baby, leaving her fatherless and bitter. She didn't need any more understanding to know she hated the man.

"You're right," Oliver sat down and wrapped his arms around Izzy. "It doesn't matter how evil he is. He's evil and our safest bet is to leave. We'll just go back to my apartment and let the ministry handle this."

"Your apartment Oliver?" Izzy moved away from him. "I thought I told you I couldn't go back to that world."

"Come on Izzy," Oliver stroked her arm. "Your still just upset. We'll figure this out later." He didn't want to fight, not now, not here and not in front of his friends. He couldn't believe that Izzy would force him to live in the Muggle world.

"Oliver I compromised my beliefs for you," Izzy pulled her arm away from him. "Look how that turned out. I can't live like this; fearing for my life and safety. In my world, things make a lot more sense."

"This is the only life I've ever known Izzy," Oliver looked around. "These are my friends, this is my career, why can't you understand how important that is to me."

"I do understand. That's why I tried in the first place," Izzy explained. "But Oliver look at it from my perspective. Today it's my father kidnapping me, tomorrow what if it's another death eater? Lord Voldemort is out there," everyone cringed at the sound of his name. "And that makes this world a very unsafe place to raise children. I want to raise our children in a nice house, somewhere in suburbia, where they can ride their bikes outside and go to soccer practice. Your world isn't that kind of world."

Oliver was aghast when Izzy said "our children." He simply couldn't believe that this young woman had already planned a family with him. "I understand all of that. But what am I going to do? I graduated from a wizard school, the only job I've ever had is Quidditch. It's impossible to start over now."

"Is it impossible?" Izzy asked pointedly. "Seems like a few months ago I started over." With that she walked away down the cobblestone path as the twinkling stars came out from behind the clouds. The little girl with bushy hair, inevitably hearing the argument, marched behind Izzy trying to catch up. Catching up with her about 10 yards away Izzy turned around rudely insulting Hermione, "What do you want? I truly doubt you understand us simple Muggles you damn witch."

"Actually," Hermione tried not to take her insult to heart. "I'm a muggle-born so I lived most of my life as a Muggle."

"That's suppose to make us best friends forever isn't," she mocked the little schoolgirl.

"No, frankly I don't like friends who spout negatively at every stranger they meet. I just wanted to tell you we have to go somewhere safe tonight so you can work out a plan for leaving."

"Somewhere safe meaning: somewhere magical?" Izzy got straight to the point. The little girl's brain was too big for her own good.

"Well yes. That way we can come up with the proper concealment spells and connections so you can safely leave," Hermione tried to explain the magical requirements to the Muggle girl.

"I don't understand why I can't get on a plane and leave!"

"Because," Hermione explained, "Your father might come looking for you. And do you have any idea where you're going? Where your job is going to be? Where you're going to live?"

"I could always go back to New York," her mind lingered on the big city she'd once called home. Apparently even Izzy thought about rewinding her life.

"I don't think New York City is a place where you can safely raise your children and where they can ride their bicycles," Hermione threw a jab back at Izzy showing the absurdity of her plan. "And besides, Oliver has to be briefed on what all a Muggle life entails."

"I could tell him…." Izzy couldn't stand loosing an argument to a sixteen year old know it all.

"Except Dumbledore needs to find him a good Muggle job and he won't be able to do that on his Hogwarts transcript," Hermione smugly corrected Izzy again.

"Okay you win this round. We'll go to your safe place for the night."

"She's agree to go to Hogwarts for the night," Hermione walked back to all the boys.

"Hogwarts! Then Dumbledore will know we broke the rules!" Ron, as always, really wanted to win the house cup.

"Do you really think we're clever enough to fool Dumbledore?" Hermione asked. "He always knows everything."

"She's right isn't she," Ron turned towards Harry.

"She always is," Harry answered and Hermione just grinned smugly. While everyone else regrouped, laughed and talked Oliver slowly made his way over to Izzy.

"Hey there," he said, "Want to take a short walk. I don't think the others will mind."

Izzy's rolled her eyes. "Sure Oliver," she added in a mocking tone, "I'm sure then everything will be alright and I'll see clearly."

Oliver didn't respond immediately, instead he took her hand and started across the grass back towards the village. The stars were twinkling overheard and the chilly night air surrounded them. "We'll leave," Oliver said simply without elaboration and contemplation.

Izzy froze in her footsteps. "We'll leave?" her voice shook. It was an unbelievable change; he was willing to leave everything for her.

"I've realized something through all of this Izzy."

"What," she asked eagerly drawing closer to Oliver.

"Quidditch really doesn't matter anymore." To someone who didn't understand Oliver Wood the answer would have seemed strange and anticlimactic. To anyone who had known Oliver, it was the biggest revelation of his life.

OoOoO

_Dear Grandma,_

_Sorry I haven't been around at all the past couple of years. It's been a crazy time. I know you wanted to see me win the Quidditch Cup, but something more important came up. I haven't been keeping up with the papers, but I can imagine my disappearance caused a lot of speculation. Don't worry I'm safe and happy. Remember that girl from the paper? We'll I married her. We just have a daughter, Belle Olivia Wood. The name was her idea, said she got it from some Muggle movie. I enclosed a picture of my family so you can see my baby girl. If you wouldn't mind send a copy to the Weasleys; I think they'd be happy for me. I love you grandma, and I'm sorry I had to leave. Take care of yourself and maybe someday I'll see you again._

_Love,_

_Oliver Wood_


End file.
